


Inverted

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Omegaverse Inverted [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha!Kylo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Verse, Omega!Hux, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8016385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo is pretty sure omegas are supposed to behave differently, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kylo Ren is an Alpha, and he doesn’t mind people knowing. Not that it matters _much_ , because he has no intention of taking a mate any time soon. Being available and unattainable in equal measure is useful, and the frustrated hunger of omegas – and betas – is like fuel to his fire. The friction as he walks past, the frisson of their need… he has no intention of satisfying their base urges. His reasons are complex, and not, all at once.

The prime one being children. Kylo does not want children. Not… really. And also, omegas are demanding little shits, aren’t they? Once a month, begging you to fuck them.

Kylo doesn’t want to have to deal with that. Or the mood swings. Or the needing to be nice to his mate, or… any of it. If he gets horny, he deals with it in the normal manner (in the shower, or with lotion, and a firm right hand). This suits him more than plenty, and he continues life as he always has.

Or he does, right until General Hux calls him in for a meeting. Kylo has no idea what the meeting is about, because he doesn’t remember anything needing Hux’s input recently, and unless this is one of his ‘checking base’ things, or his little displays of so-called superiority (he isn’t superior. He just likes to think he is), then there’s no reason for this.

He ignores the first two.

The third comes personally delivered by that useless, whimpering little thing that calls itself Mitaka.

“T-the General would like to—”

“Is he going to give up if I keep ignoring him?”

“…I believe not, Sir.”

“Fine.”

“…shall I tell him that you will—”

“Tell him nothing,” Kylo says, and blasts roughly through the man’s mind. The last few moments go out of his head, and he stares at the officer.

“Lord Ren,” Mitaka says, stuck in his loop. “The General re—”

Kylo shuts the door in his face.

He makes Hux wait another three hours before he shows up.

***

“Lord Ren,” Hux starts, peering over the desk at him.

“General.”

“You have been ignoring my meeting requests.”

“Have I? I didn’t notice.” Of course he fucking noticed, but he dares Hux to call him on it, staring through the visor at the shorter man. 

Something about him gets his back up more than others do. He assumes it’s them both vying for Top Dog, because everyone else just takes the hint and shuts the fuck up. 

“I have a personal request to make of you,” Hux says, ignoring his obvious antagonism, and still pushing for ‘professional’. 

Kylo rolls his eyes. Personal? The man even has a personal life? “What, you want me to park my command shuttle in another bay?”

“Perhaps this was a bad idea. You are clearly too much work.”

Oh, right. Use reverse psychology on him. What does Hux think this is, the fucking nursery? “What.” He doesn’t lift his tone, letting it land heavy between them, the word the only clue to the query.

“I am looking to produce a child or two, for the future of the First Order, and I would like to do so whilst I am still at optimal fertility.”

“Right. And you want me to find you an omega who won’t fight back?”

“For all your emotional maturity leaves much to be desired, I was thinking your genetic material might compliment my own. A Force-sensitive heir would be—”

“I’m not a fucking omega, Hux.”

“No, but I am.”

Kylo stares. And stares. And. “You’re joking.”

“I am not.”

“Really? You?”

Hux takes a very, very deep breath. “Yes, me. I am an omega, and you are an Alpha. We would not need to have any emotional connection, just a physical one. If you’d like, you can simply provide me with a sample, though I have done my research and the chances of successful impregnation are—”

“You want me to _fuck you_?”

This is a joke, right? 

“I thought that was patently obvious, Ren. Yes.”

Hux. An omega. Huh. Kylo tries to scent the air, but he can’t tell anything. The man is tall for an omega, but then… he would be slender for an Alpha. Not unheard of, but not likely. He’d ruled out beta just because the man was so damn pushy, but now he’s reeling from the information.

Maybe that’s why he hates him so much. 

“Fine.”

“…as gracious as ever. I will inform you when my cycle is due.”

Just like that. Kylo’s face scrunches under his mask. They don’t really have to mate-bond to do this, if they’re both very careful. They can just fuck, and then… wait.

Children. Children in the _Order_.

Fuck.

***

Hux becomes increasingly scarce, and Kylo realises it’s because he’s stopped taking his suppressants, so that must mean his cycle is due to hit any time soon. 

And he’s not nervous.

No.

Why would he be nervous? It’s just going to be a case of bend him over, bugger him senseless, put a baby in him and remember not to claim him. Which will be fine, because he doesn’t want an omega, and he definitely doesn’t want Hux.

Which does beg the question why he agreed to this at all, but Hux put him on the spot. How could he let his virility be questioned? Plus… it might actually make the man more tolerable to be around. A good, thorough fucking might be precisely what’s needed to stop him being the most annoying shit Kylo’s ever had the misfortune to meet.

Hux summons him one night, and Kylo goes to the General’s quarters for the first time. He can _smell_ him through the door, smell the sharp tang of an omega in heat. He’s been around it to some lesser degree, but this… this is a virgin omega, and one who’s been suppressed for at least a decade, if he’s any judge of age. 

Despite himself, Kylo feels the answering pull in his own blood, calling him to rut. His mouth salivates a little, and when the door opens, he’s surprised to see Hux is wearing civilian clothing.

Mostly he’s surprised he’s dressed at all. Shouldn’t he be naked already? Kylo steps in, and pulls up short when a hand meets his chest. Piercing blue eyes narrow at him like closing S-foils, and he frowns in response.

“Mask off.”

“Which of us is the omega?”

“I don’t care. Mask. _Off_ , or you’re leaving right now.”

There’s no way he’ll make good on that threat, Kylo thinks, but he also would like to smell him without the helmet in the way. It’s a matter of _principle_ , though, and his hair stands on end as he…

Fuck it. He’ll have the man bent in half soon. He reaches up to the clasps on his mask, letting it break open and lifting it with a toss of his dark hair. He looks for Hux’s response, and is gratified when the omega smiles very, _very_ slightly.

“So you’re not a monster, after all?” the General asks.

“Well. Other than in bed.”

“Again, you ruin the moment.” Hux rolls his eyes. “Take off your clothes, and get on the bed.”

“Hux,” Kylo says, reaching for his face, and then startling when his hand is slapped away. “I’m the Alpha.”

“And this is my room, and my rules. You’re only here because of your genetics, Ren. Don’t get sentimental on me.”

Sentimental? What the fuck does he even think he _is_? He’s an omega. A bitch. They take it, and the Alpha leads. That’s just… how it goes.

Hux walks away, and Kylo’s eyes follow the dark slacks. There’s a definite patch around his ass, and he can almost taste the slick that’s waiting. 

He could leave. Still. Maybe not for much longer, not easily, but… he can’t deny he’s interested. 

Fine.

Off goes the outer cowl, then his robe, gloves, and belt. He feels the General’s eyes on him as he sits with one leg draped over the other on a chair by the bed. Kylo sucks his lip in, and pulls off his pants, tunic, boots, and socks. He knows – scars aside – that his body is in very good form, and he stands proudly to allow inspection when he’s done. His chest is toned, his thighs firm, his belly flat, and his cock a thick, now-swelling weight between his legs. The knot won’t form just yet, but he can feel the itch of it above his balls.

Hux looks, but doesn’t look anywhere near impressed enough. Kylo expected him to coo and preen, but instead he looks… clinical? 

“You’re in good shape,” Hux says, with a predatory little growl.

Kylo feels… actually… a bit violated by that? What the fuck? Of course he’s in good shape, but an omega doesn’t get to go around talking like that! He’s supposed to drool and beg for it, not… _weigh him up like he’s a piece of meat_.

(Even if he is, in a sense.)

“…thanks?”

“Get on the bed.”

“Hux, this isn’t…”

“Are you going to help me, or not?”

He’s naked, now, and turned on. It’s not like he can just grab his clothes and waddle out of here. Well, he could, but he’s not about to do the walk of shame without actually _getting some_. Confused, Kylo climbs onto the bed. He watches as Hux grabs the hem of his own shirt, lifting it with one, smooth gesture and hurling it to the side. Off go the yoga pants next, and then Hux is naked in front of him.

The carpet matches the rest of the upholstery, he notes. A fine line of ginger fuzz that curls around his groin, and a cock that looks nicely sized for an omega. It bobs proudly in front of him, and Kylo wishes he’d turn and give him a look at that rear of his. 

Instead, Hux climbs on top of him, straddling his hips, and then grabs the hands that reach for his waist. “No. Bad Ren.”

“Hux…” Kylo can’t help but whine. 

“You’ll do as you’re told in my bed.”

And okay, but that _does_ send a weird little shudder down his spine, and he finds himself nodding, all the same. It’s not… it’s not… wrong, is it? To get suddenly harder over that? Or to let an omega shove your hands into the mattress and – what the fuck?

All of a sudden, there’s a General kneeling across his face, and a slap of balls on his chin, and Kylo yelps in surprise. 

For a moment.

And then he realises he’s now right next to that delicious smell, and – after a little manoeuvring – Hux sits properly on his face. His balls rest heavily on his nose, and he’s permitted to hold onto Hux’s hips as his tongue slathers between his thighs, lapping at the wet juices already flowing. He tastes… _good_. He tastes more than good, and the whole ‘this is his butt hole’ thing is apparently not a problem when it’s seeping out such a wonderful banquet of slick for him to devour. Kylo moans in pleasure, lapping over and over, gathering up the mess and feeling it spread all over his lips and chin. His tongue spears into a shaft, pushing in and swirling around, and he can’t fucking _wait_ to get up and in there. Can’t _wait_. It’s soft, warm, wet… and his cock is currently screaming at him to ram the bastard down on it.

Patience.

He needs some patience. And… well. It’s actually fucking incredible, and he forgets he’s supposed to feel offended, or slighted by it, revelling in the fingers tugging at his hair, and the way Hux’s back arches and his hips twirl under his hands as the omega takes his pleasure from his tongue and lips. Around and around inside the pucker, feeling it spread wider with each swirl. It has to, to fit his cock in, and Kylo lets out a little whimper in anticipation.

“Good boy,” Hux says, and then sits down so hard that Kylo can’t breathe.

Not that he wants to. He’s so turned on he can’t think, and he’d happily suffocate to death under Hux’s heavy balls right now, really. Really.

When he arches up and off his face, Kylo nearly tries to drag him back down again. He wants more of that, and his dazed eyes look pleadingly up.

“Do you want to knot me, or not?” Hux asks, his lips curving into a sneer.

Fuck yes. Kylo wants that very, very much. He wants it more than he remembers wanting anything, and it has to just be the rut talking, right? His body reacting to Hux’s heat, and not because… not because he _likes_ being held down like this. Not because he _likes_ Hux in any way. It’s just… biology. It’s how the species continues. It’s…

Bollocks. He watches as Hux bends backwards, sinuous and promising, and feels a hand curl around his shaft to stroke him slowly from root to tip. Kylo wants to scream at it, and hump his hand, and beg for more.

(He is sure an Alpha isn’t supposed to beg. He’s also sure he’s not supposed to lie back and take it, either. If this keeps up much longer, Hux will probably shove some form of vegetable or sexual aid in him and call him a bitch and he’ll love it anyway. Maker.)

Hux just… glows with it. His pale skin flushed pink like the faintest dusk and dawn, his lips swollen, his eyes dark. His cock leaks a little against his belly, and his sticky thighs rub against Kylo in a promise of more. “You ready to be a good boy for me?”

Kylo is not a bitch in heat. 

Okay. Kylo is a bitch in heat.

He nods, and chews his lip to dull down the whimpers, and then grabs hold of Hux’s hips as the man moves to get into position. The General holds his shaft still, and starts to push a slick, wide-open hole around him, bending and rocking until he slips all the way in. 

All the way. So far in that Kylo’s sure if Hux sucks his breath in he’ll see the cockhead trying to push out through his belly. _Force’s sake_. 

It feels so good, so very, very good, and Kylo whispers another _please_. He watches Hux’s face with keen intent, and when the man starts to rock himself on his dick, Kylo yowls and slams his head into the bed below him. Over and over, pulling up and sliding down, teasing his shaft and giving him slick, subtle strokes from the tip to his base, which threatens any minute now to swell.

“Mmm, you’ve got a nice cock,” Hux purrs. “If I want more children, I might use it again.”

“You can,” Kylo answers. “…all you want.”

“I know,” Hux smirks, and clamps down around him.

Kylo sees stars, and tries desperately to rut up and in, but he can’t with Hux holding him down. Over and over, the wet noises of their coupling, and the complete poise of the man bouncing on his lap like he doesn’t have several inches of Kylo jammed into him. He wants to claim him so very, very badly. Wants to demand that hole as his property, and his alone. No one else should have it, no one else should get to feel the bliss of his ass, or taste him on their lips. A little, possessive growl bursts past his lips, and…

That’s enough for his cock, apparently. There’s a sudden, explosive sensation as his cock swells all at once, meaning Hux’s bouncing just pulls his ring against the knot, locking them deeply together. The clench of it massages below the sensitive bulge, and Kylo’s eyes roll up as the spurting starts inside of him, bathing his insides with the furious intent to mate, and mate good. 

“Please,” Kylo whispers. “I want you.”

Which is kind of weird to say when you’re physically locked inside another person, and coming with wave after wave of bliss. But he means more than just this, and when he sees Hux’s fist tighten around his own cock, beating hard and fierce, he wants to volunteer to help.

One hand up, but Hux growls ferally at him, a hint of teeth. “No.”

“Hux, _please_.” He wants to make his omega come, and he wants… he wants to make his omega _his_. Really his. The tie makes his body crave more, and he wants him, he wants him so badly. Who cares about the fighting, or the entire, emotional incompatibility. They’re compatible like _this_ , and isn’t that enough?

“ **No** ,” Hux growls, and then he’s shuddering into his own hand, splattering come over Kylo’s belly, his body clenching around the dick knotted deep inside. 

Kylo screams at the feel of it, and grabs for the back of Hux’s neck, trying to bring him to his lips. “I want you. I’ll be good. I’ll be a good Alpha for you.”

“ _No_ ,” Hux says, and slams him back down into the bed. He pulls himself almost _off_ the tie, and then down again. Twitches all through his thighs and ass, and a noise of release, relief, and pleasure. “If we mate, we do so when _I_ want.”

Kylo gulps, and strokes his omega’s thighs, nodding. “I’ll be good for you,” he promises, like the little bitch he most clearly is. 

“You will, or I’ll find someone better,” Hux confirms.

Kylo whimpers. He’s going to need to bring his A-game, isn’t he? 

They stay locked like that for some time, and Kylo nuzzles affectionately, kissing wherever he can reach, offering affection and obedience as Hux rolls their bodies closer and closer. It feels fucking incredible, and Kylo realises, now, why he never did it before.

How could he? No one would ever be as good at it as Hux clearly is. He beams, and when the tie finally goes, he reaches for his hand in a silent request for comfort.

“Not bad,” comes Hux’s verdict. “Next time, fight me less. We’ll get to the fun part sooner.”

So there will be a next time. _Good_. Kylo can’t wait.

Although… omegas do normally need breeding several times in their heat, don’t they? Maybe he isn’t getting kicked out naked any time soon, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some internalised homophobia/omegaphobia/cultural insensitivity that has to be challenged. Some name-calling, but in a reclaiming, owning way. Hux and Kylo's views are not necessarily those of the author.

Kylo is exhausted by the time Hux has finished with him. He’s pretty sure he’s dehydrated from all the ejaculation, combined with the sweating. He’s also not sure how in the hell that willow-sharp body had enough energy to _keep going_. It was exhausting enough being the one underneath, letting Hux grind his way to ecstasy on his knot over and over. He can only imagine how drained Hux must be feeling when he comes for the third, spasming time.

He’s tender and raw, his heartrate hasn’t seen normal in hours, and if Hux doesn’t think he’s adequately inseminated now, he’s going to have to suggest the man fuck the entire Order of Ren to...

Nope. Not going there. 

Hux pulls off when his knot deflates enough, and Kylo reaches for his hips.

“Not now, Ren. You’ve done enough,” Hux says, his tone firm, but not angry.

“Don’t you want to... rest a bit?”

“I want a shower, thank you.”

“...isn’t it more likely to work if you stay lying down so more come stays in you?”

“Yes, but that would entail being sticky.”

“I could give you a sponge bath. Or... draw you a real bath.” He’s not sure why he’s offering this, but there’s a weird sort of... longing that’s just because of Hux’s hormones spilling out, and anyway, he wants to make sure the breeding takes. 

Even if it does mean a) the Order gets a child, and b) he might not get sex again next month, it also proves that c) his fertility is without equal. 

“This isn’t a relationship, Ren. You are aware I’m not looking for a mate, just a genetic donor?”

“I didn’t offer to make you _like_ me,” he snaps. “I offered because I thought it would help.”

Hux’s eyes narrow to slits, and then he shrugs. “You can draw me a bath. You will not be getting in it. You can wash while the tub is filling, and then you can leave.”

They just had three rounds of vigorous sex and _Hux is throwing him out?_ Without so much as a pat on the cheek and a ‘good girl’? Wow. “You know what, you can draw your own bath.”

“Oh, what’s wrong? Baby getting broody already?” Hux snorts, and tosses his head. He slings his legs down over the side of the bed, and strides towards the bathroom, giving Kylo a prime view of his still-sticky thighs and a flash of his throbbing hole. 

This is ridiculous. He was only trying to be nice, and it’s not like he’s expected they’ll suddenly be bosom buddies, or fall in love, or anything. But this... “Why are you being such an asshole?”

He’s fucked that asshole three times, so he feels that following it into the ‘fresher isn’t a problem. 

“This is a genetic transaction, Ren.”

“And? If you’re pregnant... are you going to even let me see the child?”

Maybe ground rules should have been laid out before, but honestly, he’d thought maybe they’d be able to find some kind of compromise instead of... this.

“You can see them. But I will organise their upbringing.”

“...’organise it?’ What the fuck? You’re not even going to rear our child?”

“Kylo,” Hux says, using his first name for once. “I’ll allow you to see them, but I’m having a child for the Order, not for myself. For the _future_. And we have the best training facilities—”

“No.”

“You don’t have a say in this.”

“I do. Any child we have is half mine. I’m not letting you just... push them into an advanced officer training placement. They have to know we love them.”

“Yes, they will. Because I will ensure they have the best opportunities in life.” Hux’s nose wrinkles in distaste. “You’re hardly a candidate for ‘father of the year’, Ren. You’re barely mature beyond toddler level yourself.”

_Says you_. It springs to mind before he can think about it, and his mouth opens and shuts on fresh air. “All the more reason for me to _try_.”

“Do yourself a favour, Ren: shower, go back to your room, and sleep on it. When you stop thinking with your cock again you’ll remember you don’t care.” 

A little pat to his cheek, but this time Kylo catches his hand. “I’m serious. I’ve not had children for a reason, you idiot. So if I’m doing this, I want to make sure they’re... happy. And maybe you don’t want me as your _mate_ , and you think that somehow being vicious to me makes you a better omega, but... there’s no need for us to fight about this.”

Hux’s eyes actually widen. “So you’re not always maximally impulsive and aggressive? Interesting. I’m still not going to throw myself at you like a fainting and desperate bitch.”

This... isn’t all about him, is it, Kylo suddenly thinks. Just a moment of clarity, like sunlight through clouds. He feels the minutest amount of worry through the Force, and he lets go of the wrist he’s clutching. 

“Just... allow me to... give them some affection, is all I am asking,” he says, trying not to use his Alpha voice so much. 

“I’ll not see you coddle them soft.”

“Don’t worry. If they’re even a quarter of you they’ll never get accused of that.”

Hux actually grins at that. He turns, and bends to push fingers through the hot bathwater, making sure it’s enough. This has the added benefit of showing off his ass again, and Kylo knows it was deliberate. 

“Are you going to help me into the tub, or not?”

“Fine.” Although he’s... well. Pleased that Hux seems to be bending, just slightly. 

This is more tricky than he ever expected. An omega who acts like an Alpha? Who doesn’t want to show the slightest weakness, or emotion? No wonder he grates on Kylo’s nerves so much, when all Kylo _does_ is feel.

***

Hux allows Kylo to bathe him, and then rises from the water, arms out to be patted dry. He’s more tired than he wants Kylo to know, and it becomes increasingly obvious that’s why he’s been trying to push the Alpha out. His eyes are heavy, but he fights it with every ounce of strength he has.

Kylo is grateful for his own physique and conditioning, finding a last reserve of strength to tend to the omega. He sees him eyeing the filthy bed with distaste through the door, and wordlessly changes the bedding, making sure to keep the pillows around for the scent, and only removing the sheets. Hux climbs into the bed and snuggles under the comforter, then looks suspiciously up at Kylo.

“If you clean yourself, you can spend the night, but don’t think we’ll be making a habit of it.”

Kylo has the decency to nod, and he takes a much quicker shower to clean himself. He’s fast wearing through his second (or fourth) wind, and by the time he hits the bed, he’s out like a light.

***

In the morning, Kylo opens his eyes to see Hux staring at him. The General doesn’t blink away when their eyes meet, and only the _very_ lightest flare of his pupils, and a swirl in the Force says anything at all. 

The heat has gone, or the heat proper, has. There’s still a reek of sexual hunger to the bed, but it’s much more muted and mellow, now. It makes something in Kylo itch, and he swallows at the tickle of it in his throat. 

“I would appreciate if you don’t attempt to use your status to control me again,” Hux says.

“As I never knew you were—”

“You tried, last night.”

“...I thought you... I thought that was what happened.” Kylo bites his lower lip, not liking this show of weakness, or ignorance. “I thought omegas liked it.”

“Really? All of us? You’ve done a conclusive study?”

“...no, because all I know is what we got taught as children, you idiot. Isn’t that why you asked me? Because I was an unmated Alpha?”

“And because of your physical strength and Force abilities, and your genetic history, and because – despite your crippling emotional immaturity and the disability that is your upbringing – you’ve somehow managed to attain a laudable height within the Order.”

High praise indeed, Kylo thinks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t... I should have asked you what you wanted before we did this?”

“I might not have known,” Hux admits, examining a thread or two of the sheet pulled up around his waist. “I was a little... more single-minded than I normally am.”

Kylo snorts. “No. You’re always like that.”

“Alright, but my focus was more on physical matters than is usual.”

That much is true, Kylo agrees. 

“It was... good, though?” the Knight asks, as airily as he can.

“You were satisfying, yes.”

“...so...”

“Ren, are you – in your very immature way – attempting to seduce me?”

“If I was trying to seduce you, I’d use different methods. I was simply pointing out we both enjoyed it, and we could... do it again. It might help blow off steam, if nothing else.”

“Well, it depends if you’re prepared to deal with me.” Hux cocks his head to one side. “I seem to be... less omega-like than you were expecting.”

Which Kylo has to kind of admit was... well. Ridiculously hot. It’s not like he feels he’s an omega, or anything. He’s not so much got the desire to bend over and present his ass for the taking, but having a powerful man like Hux bounce on his lap and pull at his hair and pin his hands down? Apparently he’s man enough to admit he likes that, if only in the confines of his head. 

“No strings,” Kylo offers. 

“Not even ropes?” 

Holy shit does that idea do something to him. Kylo has to clamp his thighs shut at the thought, feeling his cock twitch hopefully.

“So yes, ropes?” Hux’s teeth fucking _sparkle_.

“Ropes could be negotiated. Will you allow me to spend the night any time we... are intimate?”

“You mean: ‘fuck like madmen’?” Hux considers for a moment. “As long as you don’t try to claim me, then fine. I’m not—”

“...’looking for a mate’,” Kylo finishes, for him. “I know.”

“Alright. But we might not get another heat for some time if you did your job well enough last night.”

“...you know we could always... just have sex?” Like. Whenever. Like. _Now_? “Without a heat.”

“Ren... are you going to turn into one of those sex-mad Alphas?” Hux’s eyes are almost laughing, now, and his smile is almost not scary. “Am I going to _need_ to chain you down so you don’t ravage me?”

“Maybe... wouldn’t you like a pet Alpha, desperate to fuck you?”

“I’d love to hear him beg...”

Oh, yes, yes, yes. Kylo rolls slightly, his hand finding the outside of Hux’s thigh. A slide up, and then a purr that’s supposed to be a growl as it’s slapped, hard. “I want you.”

Hearing that seems to urge Hux on more, and Kylo is startled by the hand that grabs his throat, forcing his head back in submission, pressing down in a threat and a promise. 

“I thought you were going to beg me nicely. You obviously don’t want it _enough_ , do you, Ren?”

“ _Please_ ,” Kylo says, and... this is still the lingering heat, right? Or is it the frayed, half-formed non-bond? Is his body and heart just craving the promise they didn’t keep, the age-old pact of Alpha and mate? Because if so, it’s going to drive him _mad_ not being able to fully consummate.

Which is _perfectly fine in his book_.

Hux leans in, his breath over Kylo’s face. He smells of sex and soap and _Hux_ , and Kylo can’t gulp enough in. “Get me my belt,” Hux growls.

Kylo doesn’t need telling twice, and he turns his eyes to sight for it, yanking with the Force until it drops onto the bed beside them. He knows what it means, and he lifts both hands above his head, surprising himself in the act.

It’s... vulnerable. Like that. It’s removing his ability to have any control over contact, and speed, and anything whatsoever. His shoulders stretch, his chest exposed and he can _feel every pump of his heart in his chest all of a sudden._

Hux sits back, the sheet falling back down, exposing his belly and the half-hard dick. “I’m sore. From last night. So I think it’s about time you knew what you put me through, so next time you want my _ass_ , you appreciate the gift you’ve been given.”

Wait... what? Hux wants to... he wants to top him? His eyes widen in panic, and okay, it’s one thing to let your partner tie you up and ride you, but...

“I won’t hurt you.” Hux says it with a surprising amount of compassion, suddenly, his fingers sliding over his chest. He’s still half-kneeling beside him, looking down at the Knight. “But if you’d rather just hands, mouths...”

“I just... I haven’t...”

“Of course you haven’t. You’re an Alpha. Doesn’t mean you don’t have a g-spot buried deep in your ass, like you’re still part of the same species as me.”

“...isn’t it...” Weird? Bad? Wrong? To take it up the ass? Even if he’s always expected an eventual partner (unless female) to accept him that route, they... well. Omegas get wet. Alphas do not. And sure, an omega (or a beta) can’t _knot_ him, but it’s a bit... gay, right? Like when two Alphas get together. It’s... _queer_.

It’s fucking _weird_ , and not what Kylo ever thought he’d do. 

“Isn’t it what?”

Gay? Disgusting? **Wrong**?

“I never...” Maybe a few times. Maybe he’d wondered how an omega might feel, if they were on his knot. “...have you?”

“A beta. In the Academy.”

An omega... fucking a beta. Even if betas can’t knot, they normally at least top omegas, or so he’d always assumed. “Did he like it?”

Hux smirks. “Oh yes. I can... I can make it good for you.” His hands start to roam again, over his open chest, over the swell of his nipples. “And if it gets too much, I’ll stop. Which is more than most Alphas can.”

Well, to be fair, if they knotted they wouldn’t be _able_ to pull out, but Kylo will concede the point. He licks over his lips, then nods. “Okay.”

“Did you clean there, when you showered?” He’s pulling out a bottle from the bedside cabinet, putting it on the sheets and then shifting.

Kylo nods, and when Hux takes his ankles in his hands to gently part his legs, he’s shaking and trying to suppress it. There’s little kisses to his inner thighs, and... maybe he should be making notes? Because if he can learn what Hux thinks a good ‘Alpha’ should be doing, then he can make it even better next time he’s in heat, right? 

More kisses, all over his legs and belly, ignoring his cock and balls at first. Hux kneels between his thighs, urging his ankles towards his ass, grabbing a pillow and – after some wiggling – easing it under his ass. 

“Not many Alphas have the self-confidence to allow this, you know,” Hux tells him. His hand reaches between Kylo’s legs and starts to fondle and play with his ballsac. Soft, gentle rolling and touching, and the need inches ever higher. “They miss out on some wonderful sensations.”

“Well. When it’s heat, it’s kind of... a no-brainer, though, right?”

“Oh, yes. And trust me, if I let you in my bed when I’m in heat and I _don’t_ get your cock in me, I’m _not_ going to be happy.”

Okay, that’s alright then. Because Kylo did enjoy that a lot, and he doesn’t want Hux to think this becomes the new norm. A finger straightens out, and the ball-scrunching turns into that digit sliding back and forth, back and forth. It teases over the sensitive skin there, and starts to draw circles around his hole.

Which. Okay. Is clamped tight shut because _it’s still very, very, very odd_. Kylo’s breathing hitches higher, going up an invisible octave, and then there’s a tongue licking at his cockhead, and the sensation makes him yelp in shock. 

Hux doesn’t lift his head, continuing to lap at the head of his dick, finger still just tracing his hole and ignoring the flinch reactions. The weirdness slowly fades, and he enjoys the wet lapping of his mouth, the lips that close around the head and then the hands move and there’s clicky bottle-cap and squeezy bottle-press noises. He does his best to tune those out as Hux starts to bob up and down over his shaft (not, he notes, taking it all in, but taking a good margin inside). The silky glide of his tongue working underneath is enough to make the first little jolt inside go okay.

Odd. The pressure isn’t painful at all. It’s a bit like feeling the satisfaction of a good stretch over your shoulders, but between his legs. He knows him being an Alpha means he’s less able to take a cock without some serious preparation, and he’s grateful that Hux knows _how_ (even if the knowledge brings with it some small measure of jealousy for a lover long past). 

The finger starts to stroke in and out, and the mimicked thrusts remind him of the night before, of feeling Hux ram his ass down and gulp his cock whole, and the thought of it makes him _give_ , somehow, letting the finger push in to the knuckle.

Maker. _Maker_. **Mercy**. 

It feels way, way too good, and maybe even more so because he knows he _shouldn’t_. He shouldn’t fuck an omega one night, and let him turn the tables the next. Isn’t Hux supposed to be clinging to his ankle and begging him not to go and demanding they get fucking married? Not tying him to the bed and digitally sodomising him? The finger bends, and Kylo _screams_ in blissful shock.

The finger keeps moving, but Kylo can’t _see_ for how black the world suddenly is, how his body _begs_ for more, even if his words don’t. His legs spread wider, and he humps himself down on the hand, wishing for more, more, more.

“Soon,” Hux tells him, and a second finger goes inside. “I’m going to fuck you raw. Aren’t you my good little bitch? Don’t you love that? Knowing you’re going to be fucked by the man you just got pregnant.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kylo whines. “Yes, yes, yes!”

His cock is now slapping his belly, his shaft confused at the lack of stimulation. His knot wants to swell already, but there’s no pressure behind it, and no slick around it, so it’s as confused as he is. It’s so wrong, and so right, and he wants it. He does, he wants it. 

“When I’ve fucked you, I might even let you come.”

He might _not_? Kylo shrieks and nearly nuts right then, his feet pawing the bed as the third finger penetrates him, stroking lube deep inside. He’s so fucking turned on he can barely breathe, and every breath he takes feels like the air is on **fire** , and then Hux is moving into place between his knees.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs. “Please. Please fuck me, omega. Please!”

“Bet you want me to claim you, don’t you?”

Holy shit.

The first thrust almost burns, but not really. It’s wider than the fingers, but it doesn’t really matter. Hands grab his hips as Hux starts to bury himself alive inside of him, and Kylo feels the bed start to rock. It could be Hux moving, it could be him and the Force, it could be all in his head, or he could be about to explode. All of it. None. Yes. Fuck.

“ _Please_ ,” he begs. “Please. I want... I want... I want _you_ , Hux...”

Hux’s movements go piston-precise, rocking them both with each slap against his ass. A few catch against something inside of him that has him seeing stars, and he wraps his ankles behind Hux’s back to urge him faster, harder. His cock flails uselessly between them, massive and hungry and neglected and _loving it_. He’s never felt so alive in his body before, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do but take the sweet, sweet pounding pressure of his omega’s thrusts.

“Filthy, emotional little bitch,” Hux snaps at him, his tone disgusted and delighted at the same time. “You’re the fucking omega. You needy little shit. You don’t deserve my ass, do you?”

No, probably not. Kylo’s well aware of his own failings across the board, and he... fuck. His eyes are wet with horror, and a horror that doesn’t seem to abate with the rough use and abuse. “No.”

“You don’t deserve that knot. I should be knotting you. Making _you_ fat. Making **you** carry our children.”

“... _yes_ ,” he whispers, and looks up, lost and found at once. The words work deep into his core, and Kylo wonders how broken the pair of them are? An Alpha who wants to be taken, an omega who wants to lead? The need to claim – be claimed – _both_ – sings through him again, and he’s terrified, all of a sudden. Terrified that others will find out. That people will know he’s a useless, crying little bitch who just wants to cuddle after sex. That he’s craving this abuse, and that he’s getting off so hard he could practically swear he _was_ in heat. His cock still wants to fuck Hux, and _he_ still wants it, but... _this, too_.

Harder, harder, and then Hux bends down and he slams his throat over Kylo’s mouth, almost _daring_ him to do something about it. 

But he won’t. He won’t, because Hux hasn’t told him he can. He kisses at it very softly, and nuzzles like the obedient little bitch he is, murmuring his affection and adoration. 

That – apparently – suits Hux just _fine,_ because then he’s moving and there’s teeth on his neck and _omegas can’t claim Alphas but he’s fucking trying anyway_ , sinking his teeth in until blood splashes out, biting him hard enough that it’s an **agony** , and Kylo thinks if he lets it heal without any Bacta... maybe? Maybe it will stay? Maybe he will...

Hux finishes inside him with a grunt, the splash of it warm on his insides. 

Kylo remembers the threat. _Not to let him come, too_.

He looks up, and realises... if Hux decides that’s what happens? _It happens._ He ducks his head, and averts his eyes, and tries to make it clear. A flicker of thought pushed into his mind: _Whatever you want_.

Much to his surprise, Hux pulls out and slams Kylo’s legs down. He gets up – wilting cock and all – and reaches behind him for Kylo’s cock. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” Kylo promises.

“And which of us is in control?”

“ _You_ ,” Kylo insists.

“And whose bed is this?”

“ ** _Yours_** ,” is the honest truth.

Hux – less slick than last night, but not dry by any means – drops down onto his cock, all the way down. He holds Kylo’s shoulders, his lip pulled in to bite as he rides him furiously hard. It’s moments before the pressure and the contact is enough, and the lifting starts to become harder as Kylo’s cock expands to lock them. On and on it spurts, the pulses almost painful in their intensity, making his head woozy and light. 

Kylo cries brokenly, and then there’s soft skin against his lips. 

Dare he? Can he?

“Please?” he asks, not able to do it without his say so, without his permission.

“Do it,” Hux barks at him. “ **Now**.”

And his teeth sink in at last, claiming Hux just as surely as he’s claimed in return. The elastic stretch inside winds around his sense of _Hux_ , and tangles him to him, cleaves them together, makes it _right_. The gushing completion between them is so much deeper, and Kylo just wants to kiss his belly and hold him and be held forever.

Fuck. Yes. Please.

***

This time, the tie stays for longer. Kylo likes to think it’s in part due to the claiming, but he’s pretty sure it’s also the thorough fucking he got, first. His ass is still a little sticky and raw, but it’s a price he’s happy he’s paying. 

Hux relents enough to lie across his chest as they’re knotted hard as one, and Kylo is grateful when his hands are released and he’s allowed to stroke and pet and cling on.

The after-shocks roll up and down his spine, and he pushes tiny kisses to Hux’s throat, tasting him lightly, memorising the feel of his skin. 

“Sentimental bitch,” Hux accuses him.

Kylo grins. “Maybe, but you love it.”


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so. It’s the first day when they might know. Since they officially claimed _one another_ as mates, Kylo has spent more nights in Hux’s bed than not, but he’s still only there on invitation. An invitation that is sometimes refused, and which he has to honour and respect. It’s strange, but it works, and so Kylo doesn’t question it.

Hux has been increasingly highly strung as the date for him to first test whether he’s likely pregnant or not approaches. Kylo can’t sense anything through the Force for sure, and Hux refuses to pee on anything before it’s time to pee on them. 

Which is today.

He’s already been threatened with being kicked out twice, so he’s trying his best to keep a low (for him) profile, nerves making his tongue sort of massive and his head sort of wobbly. 

He never wanted kids. Not. Not really. He can’t shake the knowledge of his genetics and rearing, can’t… divorce himself from the disappointment that he remembers.

Disappointment is too weak a word for what he feels towards the genetic donors he refuses to call parents. The Basic tongue – and all the others he knows – don’t have a suitably strong term for the absolute betrayal and complete failure that was his upbringing. And so Kylo’s never wanted to repeat those mistakes, and also… well.

The First Order is useful for the Supreme Leader. It is required, and so he cannot hate it, but he doesn’t want to think too long on what kind of upbringing would happen if Snoke and Hux were allowed to run rampant over his future children.

He’ll work something out. He has to. Because it’s too late to go back on it, now, and he’s really not going to escape this unscathed, any which way.

Hux goes into the ‘fresher with the little package. He could do this in the med bay, but he’s apparently trying to keep the scuttlebutt from knowing the intimate details of their newly minted relationship, and his sexual and reproductive status.

Kylo pulls one foot up to his ass, bent at the knee, and fusses with his boot while he waits for the prognosis. He can feel Hux’s flickering worry in the other room, and he sends a tiny little psychic trickle of reassurance. He’ll probably get called weak and sentimental and a fool for it, but he doesn’t care. 

There’s an elated burst of emotion through the door, and Kylo is up and at the threshold when Hux opens it to tell him. He’s trying so very, very hard to conceal his pride, glee (and secret relief), but Kylo has no such qualms and he wraps his arms tight around his omega, nuzzling affectionately at his cheek, feeling like a ticking chrono inside is heralding something massive any moment now.

“You overgrown baby,” Hux chides, not pushing him off straight away, but not returning the embrace.

“We’re having our own,” Kylo says, and the joy is too much to let the worry kick in, right now. He squeezes his upper arms, all but cooing in pleasure, and then he drops down to his knees to kiss over Hux’s stomach.

It’s fully clothed, and far too early in the term to actually be anything but flat and normal, but the _thing_ – the _thing they made_ – it’s in there. Small, and growing. He grabs Hux’s hips and kisses over and over, feeling the bubbles inside him swell to popping. 

“Trust you to be overly-sentimental, Ren. You do realise there’s every possibility the first child won’t come to—”

No. Kylo’s eyes turn flinty, and he glares up, over the belt-buckle, to the man looking down. “Our child will survive. I will make sure of it.”

“It’s nothing to do with you, or me, it’s just—”

Kylo feels his lips curl back in a little growl, his head shaking in abject denial. Even when the hand goes into his hair and yanks hard enough to hurt, he won’t back down on that. “I’ll make sure they do. And I’m going to love them. And I’m going to make them feel safe, and secure, and wanted.”

There’s some answering harshness in Hux’s face, then. A closing down of whatever soft thing had been there, and Kylo rises up. He grabs hold of his omega’s face, refusing to let him pull away as he’s trying. 

“You want this baby, Hux. So do I. We’ll be good parents.”

“I only wanted to… the Order needs…”

Kylo kisses the words into stopping, and then waits for Hux to scream bloody murder into his face, but sees something… infinitely more complicated instead. Something dark and old, twisted around itself: an omega who thinks being an omega is bad. An omega who is terrified to feel, in case it proves him weak. 

There’s… there’s more to this. A lot more, and he can tell Hux is on the edge of flipping out entirely and kicking him right out the door. 

“It’s okay.”

“It **isn’t**.” 

Hux’s eyes are black on white, the prey-animal suddenly aware of its own mortality. He tries to pull back, and Kylo won’t let go. 

“Get _off me_.”

“I… Hux. It’s… it’s okay to feel things, you know.”

“Oh? Oh is it, really? That’s nice for you, but **I don’t feel things**. And if I did, I’d be hung for it.”

What a fucking ridiculous thing to… Right. Okay. He didn’t want it to come to this, but… Kylo grabs hold of Hux, hoisting him up and onto his shoulder. The man is too shocked to do anything at first, but then he goes stiff as a board and starts to kick and claw, reaching for his side-arm and threatening bloody murder.

“I’m just taking you to the couch,” Kylo says, as his hair is pulled viciously, nearly dragging clumps from his scalp.

“I don’t have time for this! I have work to do! And you _said you wouldn’t use your status against me_.”

“I’m _taking you to the couch_ ,” Kylo reminds him. “And you’re going to sit with me for ten minutes, and then you can kick me out.”

“I will _not_ be held a hostage in my own rooms! Ren! This is—”

Kylo sits on the couch, and moves Hux to sit across his lap. He grabs his hands and endures the frothing face, trying to get him to settle. “Ten minutes. Give me that.”

“This is not what we agreed.”

“No, it isn’t, but I just… please?” He lets go of his wrists, and lets him loose.

Hux scoots to the other side of the couch, dragging his legs up to his chest, curling up slightly into a ball. It’s not his normal behaviour at all, but it’s as close to a concession as he’s likely to get.

“Feeling things doesn’t make you bad, or wrong, or… whatever you’ve been told. I’m not going to… look. I’m an Alpha, so I don’t know how you feel, or what it’s like to be you. But I know what it’s like to be _me_.”

“Exactly: over-privileged. You have everything handed to you on a platter.”

“Yes. I do. But… you know just as much that if I showed too much affection, I’d be classed as weak. I’d be told I was a _bad_ Alpha.”

“Because you are.”

“Maybe I am.” Kylo shrugs. “Pretty par for the course.”

Hux doesn’t respond, curling further up into himself.

“Fuck what everyone else thinks. Don’t… don’t do it because of them. Do what _you_ want.”

“There’s such a thing as personal and professional responsibility, Ren.”

“And you don’t think you give that ten times over?” He knows how hard he works. 

The General thinks for a moment, but still doesn’t seem ready to cede.

“If you… if you feel… warmly towards our child, it isn’t weak, or omega, or anything. It’s fucking normal. And you can still give them a good education and prospects and _love_ them.”

“It will coddle them, and make them weak.”

The Knight pinches his nose. He is so not equipped for this conversation. He’s _trying_ , but Hux doesn’t want to listen. And he’s not the most patient and level-headed of people himself, is he? 

“I won’t tell anyone if you love our children. But please – for the love of the Force – _don’t_ let them grow up feeling like they’re just a tool, or…” Okay, no, that hits a little too close to the bone, and he has to fight the sudden rush of sorrow and hurt. 

“Ren, you’re—”

“Call me pathetic right now, and I _will_ walk out,” he says, forcing his voice as level as he can. 

Which clearly takes Hux by surprise, the man’s back straightening sharply. “You… this was a mistake.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Kylo wheedles. “It doesn’t. We’re good together.”

“You want something I’m not sure I’m capable of.” Hux’s hands slide up and down his own legs. “You want someone I’m _not_.”

“No… I want _you_. But… maybe with less of the pretending you don’t feel anything, when I **know** you do.”

“I can’t be a parent. I mean… the kind you want. It’s not what I’m… it’s… I don’t have the…”

Kylo arches, leaning over to kiss the side of Hux’s mouth. He puts a hand on his knee, and strokes with his thumb. “We can work it out?”

“But I’m not… I’m not…” Hux is furiously pink, and repressing deep, deep shudders. 

“If you don’t… bond with them… just let them know you’re proud of them?” Kylo suggests. “I can do all the loving for both of us, but… don’t make them feel they’re not good enough. Please.”

“This was a terrible idea.”

He grabs Hux’s hand, moves it to his belly. Presses it in, and watches his face. “Do you really think so?”

Hux nods, but his eyes say otherwise. 

“Hux… please. You’re…”

“Just being stupid, and should act like a normal omega?” he suggests.

“No! Fucking… no. I… fine. Forget I said anything.” Kylo’s heart hurts, and he tries to stand to leave, not sure what else he can say to a man who won’t…

…fingers reach for his wrist, and blue, lost eyes peer up at him. A tiny request, one he can deny and they can both pretend never happened. A show of weakness, an overture of compromise. He turns his hand, and slides their palms together, knotting tight. 

“I told you I wasn’t a good omega.”

“Yeah. And I’m not a good Alpha,” Kylo reminds him. 

“You’re the only one I think I could tolerate.” He offers a weak smile, and the tiniest tug on his hand. “You don’t have to leave for the night.”

Kylo smiles, his ribs sort of burning up inside him. He turns properly, and holds his arms out to offer to carry him. Hux snorts, a hand on his shoulder as he rises himself.

“I’m pregnant, not _invalided_.”

“I was being gentlemanly,” Kylo replies, amused. 

“Yes, well, save it for when my ankles swell and I want icecream and back rubs.”

“I promise I will give you those things.” He’d be happy to. The excuse to spoil and dote? Apparently he likes that. A lot.

“Are you coming?”

***

They undress efficiently, and Hux goes to lie, propped up on the pillows, at the top of the bed. He parts his legs, pulling some of the extra pillows (that Kylo brought along one night and have not been sent back) to shore up his hips.

Kylo knows what that means, and he clambers onto his hands and knees, stalking up between those thighs, kissing his way higher. Hux likes him to worship his body, Kylo’s discovered, and he’s only too happy to do so. His hands clench under his knees and his lips suckle faint, purpley marks across the pale skin. Hux plays idly with the Knight’s hair, combing and tugging, and urges him up higher.

“Needy,” Kylo accuses, and makes sure Hux sees the fond amusement, and not actual insult, in his expression.

“Get on with it, Ren. I don’t have time for your nonsense tonight.”

He nods, and pushes his nose against the man’s balls, smelling the tang of his arousal starting to pool and spread. Little licks over the sac, and then he moves to lap over his cock from root to tip. Just his tongue, dragging and pressing hard, pushing him into his belly. His hands stay where they are, and Hux holds his face in position, smacking his balls against his chin.

Obediently, Kylo lifts up to swallow his cock whole. He’s often grateful that Hux can’t knot, because from the few times they’ve tried this the other way around? It’s been messy, and no matter how hard Hux insists on trying, he never fits the swollen base in properly. Hux has a very nice cock, and it might look a little small on an Alpha, but it would make any beta or omega weep with jealous pleasure to see or touch it.

Kylo is glad it’s his. He does his level best to suckle deeply, and then bobs up and down as Hux clucks minute commands at him to do better. He lets it settle as deep inside as he can, then gulps down air – almost choking in the process – before he’s yanked back by the locks and his face is shoved lower.

Hux loves to be eaten out, and Kylo loves to do it just as much. He’s thoroughly wet now, the slick making the sheets sticky and his thighs and hole gleam in preparation for him. A rub of his nose against his puckered entrance, and then Kylo licks hard, gulping away the sweet fluids and encouraging more to flow with wiggles of his tongue. He tastes of fucking… starlight and ion cannon, and when he pushes his tongue inside to whorl circles around his dark walls, his omega grabs his ears and yanks him flush to his body, grinding against his features with rough, angry huffs of air.

Kylo can’t do much but try to breathe and keep using his tongue, using it well past the point of aching, well past where he’s spluttering and gagging and loving every minute. He moves one hand, up and over his thigh… up to rest on his belly. 

Hux – rather unexpectedly – hits his first climax at that simple touch. Kylo’s shocked as the General convulses over him, spurting in messy blobs that hit his wrist and make his walls tighten around Kylo’s tongue. He gathers up the splatters in his palm, massaging them into his belly and enjoying the way Hux flinches in surprise at the touches.

Interesting. Very interesting. Kylo has to take a break, and Hux’s body clearly wants a brief breather, too. The hands in his hair move to his face, and he rests his cheek on the General’s thigh, smiling up at him.

“Don’t get cocky, Ren,” he’s warned.

“I won’t.”

“This is just the hormones, nothing more.”

Yes, it is, sort of. Bonding and mating hormones. Child-bearing hormones. _Omega_ hormones. But Hux is admitting they do make him tender, in some ways, and that’s enough for him. 

A Hux who was entirely soft wouldn’t even _be_ Hux. So this… him with a few soft edges? Is all Kylo’s looking for. He moves to stroke over the softening cock, just light touches, knowing he’ll respond before long. Hux has an even better refractory period than he does, and _he_ can use the Force to cheat. 

Kylo laps lightly outside his hole for a while more, then is surprised by the sudden head-jerk of ‘come up here’. He obeys at once, weight on one hand, body brushing over Hux’s. 

“Make it good for me.”

He wants Kylo to fuck him, for once? Not just lie – or sit – back and be ridden? He won’t ask for clarification in case it spooks Hux into changing his mind, and finds his cock in his left hand, stroking a few times before holding it at his entrance. It’s warm, and welcoming, and waiting, and when he slides in the angle is all _weird_ and off. Not unpleasant in the slightest, but the arms that wrap around his shoulders are almost… clingy.

But not. But yes.

“I would appreciate some time today, Ren.”

“I was just… happy.”

“Yes, well, you can be happy and fuck me, or so you keep insisting.”

He can. He definitely can. Kylo starts to rock and snap his hips into him, his cock sinking deeper into the dark depths of Hux’s ass with every passing moment. Like this, Hux’s cock is trapped between them, and he stares at his face from close up.

It’s hard to hold in open adoration and adulation, and he decides not to try. Instead, Kylo kisses across from one side of his lips to the other, chasing his pleasure with sharp, deep thrusts. There’s fingernails in his shoulders, digging in to counter-point this closeness, scraping pink and sore lines over his back.

He loves that, too. Loves the thought that they might mark for a while. Loves the stinging pleasure of it. Loves… that Hux will let him make love to him, at last. They’ve fucked plenty, but Kylo’s never been wholly sure that Hux was on board with the softer elements.

Right now, scrawling messages over his back and spine, breathing raggedly into his ear, pulling at his hair… right now, the emotional proximity is almost killing him, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Going to rub your feet, your back… icecream whenever you want it… baths… music… dancing…”

“How will – ah! – dancing help me? I’m pregnant, not a— _ohhhh_ —”

“Maybe won’t help, but will show you how important you are to me,” Kylo replies. He can feel Hux’s cock between them, flooding with readiness, eager to come again.

“Useless Alpha.”

Yep. He is. Kylo captures those lips in his own, pushing his tongue in as his dick does, only his tongue can’t suddenly start to swell. He uses the last moments of potential freedom to hammer him harder, nudging that spot inside that always makes Hux buckle when he feels a touch there. 

Nails that claw at his back, the other hand on his neck. Kylo whuffs in effort as his omega arches under him, giving him a better angle to plough into him, watching his eyes and suddenly feeling a swell of—of—

It’s… it’s not all internal, is it? That emotion. That… affection and hope. He can feel Hux open up just a tiny bit, and he doesn’t want to scare him, or make him too self-conscious, but he wants to fucking _drown_ in the looping and relooping feelings. The desire to please and be pleased, to love and feel it reflected back. He rakes his mind softly against Hux’s, letting him feel a sense of the depth of his own affection.

His knot pops almost at once, a rush of blood and then a crushing inevitability of their bodies tied. He still grinds into him, unable to pull out, but just tease at his hole as he rocks back away.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises.

“You don’t need to.”

“I know. I’m still going to. Because I _want_ to.” _Not because you need it_ , he thinks into his head. _Because you matter to me._

Hux looks shocked, and then he rolls them over, reasserting himself. The locked coupling keeps them together as he rolls Kylo onto his back, and his hands rest on the Knight’s chest for balance. His half-hard cock fills right in front of him as Hux surges in his lap. 

He says nothing, chasing his pleasure, strange little bounces and he doesn’t even fight when Kylo takes hold of his dick and strokes it. Doesn’t fight when the climax rips through him, making Kylo’s cock leak fast, hot goop into him in response to the clenching around him. No chance of pregnancy today, but also no chance of harm to their child. 

Hux bites his lip in overly-done focus, and then he meets Kylo’s eyes. 

_What if I’m not enough?_

_You are_ , Kylo insists, and reaches for his cheek, cupping it oh-so-fondly. _You’re beautiful, strong, smart, and funny._

“I’m not… wired up like you.”

“No one is wired up like me.” He’s glad this is back aloud, even though Hux’s dick is wavering uncertainly, still not fully spent, but not sure of his arousal… even as his ass is pumped to bursting. “But I don’t want _me_ , I want **you**.”

“Say that again.” It should be a command, but it sounds like – like – begging?

“I want you, and only you,” he promises, holding Hux’s cock and starting the next round of strokes. Tight, choking, just how he likes it. Mimicking the omega hole he’ll never know himself. “I want you. And our child will be the most beautiful, strong, smart, funny and loved thing in all of the galaxy.”

_Even if I can’t—_

Kylo pushes gently at his mind, requesting entrance, not taking it. Hux wavers, then nods.

A shunt, and he finds the tangled worry and hope and fear all bound up together. _This is your feelings_ , he reminds him. _You have them. They’re here. You’re not broken_.

_Are they enough?_

_You ask me_ , he says, and pushes them a little, pushes them past the barriers he’s walled up inside. 

Hux screams at the stimulus, and fucks his hand like crazy, coming so hard his eyes roll into his head as he spurts a third (and almost certainly final) time. His hole flutters around Kylo, milking every last drop of him deep, deep inside. It’s glorious, and it’s prickly, and it’s… them. 

Them.

Hux collapses onto his chest, panting openly and burrowing against him for a change. Kylo wraps his arms around his mate, needing the hug just as much. 

He wants to say it, but he can’t. Instead he moves to kiss the mark on Hux’s shoulder, and he knows it says exactly what he wants it to. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hux does not show his pregnancy immediately, though it is only a matter of time. They’ll smell it on him, first. And it’s not as if they don’t know he’s an omega, now he’s claimed. He smells of Kylo, and Kylo smells of him, and…

…wait. They better realise Kylo isn’t the omega. Which they will, won’t they? Because Hux is the one who became harder to find, and they can’t have forgotten that, and…

But does it matter? Really? They don’t know who fucks whom (and, in the morning, Kylo doesn’t know who will fuck whom that night), and so it’s moot. It’s just… you know. _Omegas_. Even if Hux is single-handedly re-defining his whole world-view, he doesn’t want the man to fuck everyone else into submission to re-orientate their heads because _Hux is his_. Or… _he is Hux’s_. Or both.

But Kylo knows. Kylo knows his mate is carrying their child, and he is grateful for the mask to keep his grin hidden. He just remembers it at odd times and smiles, and has to tell himself not to drape over Hux from behind and nuzzle at his neck when they’re on the bridge. Forces his feet and knees away from Hux’s, under the boardroom table, even though he _wants so badly_. Wants to confess his undying… you know. 

He’s fucking owned. So, so owned. 

None of the troopers know him enough to discuss the situation with him, but he definitely feels their confusion at his presence through the Force. He’s not sure why they’re so baffled, because… things haven’t changed, have they? 

Have they?

It’s one of his Knights who says it. They’re sparring, honing their combat abilities, when a shove with the Force has him leaping up and crashing down on the other side of the younger Knight.

“So he doesn’t have them in a footlocker, then?”

“What?”

“Your balls.”

Kylo slams his saber through the air, barely stopping before the Knight’s throat. “What. Did. You. Say?”

“Just… you know. You’ve gone…”

He hears the word the other man refuses to say: _soft_. Is it meant to imply his dick? Because his dick is _anything_ but soft. Regularly. Repeatedly. Forcefully. “You clearly have never been in a relationship yourself, have you?”

“Pretty sure if it does _that_ to me, I’d rather not bother,” Vyyk brushes him off.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… it depends on if you’ll try to murder me for telling the truth, or not.”

For the love of… “I will not murder you, or attempt to murder you, for this, specific thing.”

A complete carte blanche is out of the question, and they circle one another slowly.

“You _moon_ after him. You’re practically on a leash, boss. You agree with nearly every suggestion he has. You used to stand up for yourself!”

“…the General has good ideas and plans.”

“So? Didn’t used to stop you fighting with him.”

“I am more interested in the greater good of the Order than—”

The ‘coughing’ into the hand trick is as old as they get. “ _Banthashit_.”

“What did you just say?”

“With _no_ respect, as you’re hardly _due_ any, but you’ve turned into a lap dog. You just do what he says, probably so he puts out. Everyone’s convinced he’s removed your balls to wear as shoulderpads during the day.”

“You’re being childish, Vyyk.”

“I’m being realistic.”

Kylo swirls his blade in his hand. “I’ll show you where my balls are if you keep that up.”

“Nah, Hux would eviscerate you if you did that.” Vykk smirks.

Kylo kicks three kinds of crap out of him.

***

He isn’t whipped. Well. Okay, sometimes he’s whipped in the bedroom, but he’s still himself. He’s still Master of his Knights. He’s still the Supreme Leader’s Right Hand Man. He’s still… Kylo Ren. Crux of the Force. Strong and independent. 

Just because he really fucking likes it when Hux breaks his hands on his cheeks or ass, or rides his cock to oblivion and back… he’s not _whipped_.

Except maybe he is. He’s just…

The antagonism is almost gone. Almost. It surfaces more in private, now. He might pull a little at the edges of diplomacy in public, but it invariably gets him too hard if he does it in front of people, and so it’s a bad idea to mix work and pleasure.

Has he… has he succumbed? Does he just… go with the flow? For an easier life at home? And if he does, is it even a problem? Hux is the most efficient, driven person he knows. What’s wrong with acknowledging his talents?

Kylo is worrying about the implications when Hux gets home. His eyes slide over to the man coming into their (and it is ‘their’, now) rooms. Gloves off, coat shrugged onto the rung. 

Normally Kylo would greet him, whether Hux wanted it or not. Today, though, he stays in silence, only nodding vaguely enigmatically as he watches Hux ease into his private persona. It isn’t that different from his public one, though: Kylo is the one who craves and initiates comfort, much to Hux’s annoyance.

Today, though…

“What is it, Ren?”

“Nothing.”

“If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have a face like a slapped Hutt’s rear.”

Kylo’s nose wrinkles in annoyance, and then he glowers up at him. “It’s nothing.”

“Ren… if you think acting like a prissy little bitch will make me coo and preen over you…”

No, it wouldn’t. Kylo gets up, and tries not to let the hurt show. “I’m going for a run.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I need some space.”

Which is rich, as Hux has only just gotten home. Still, the General nods. Either he accepts and understands, or he doesn’t care. Kylo is not sure which is worse.

***

When he gets back, he still isn’t ready to talk about it. Hux straps his wrists to the bed and takes his pleasure, and Kylo tries to feel as into it as he normally does. Something isn’t quite… right. His cock still rises, still functions, but something deeper down is _wrong_.

And it’s scaring him.

Hux waits until the knot’s inside and pumping before he plays Bastard. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to either have you conditioned, or beat it from you?”

“There’s—”

“If you say ‘nothing wrong’ one more time, I’m going to find some way to deflate your dick and kick you out for the night.”

He wasn’t about to say that, but his jaw clamps shut, all the same. His hands pull at the belts looping them in place, and he bites into his lower lip with all the power he can. “We don’t… we don’t fight. In public.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Not like we used to.”

“And… what? You miss the antagonism?” Hux teases, though only half-serious when he does. 

“No, it’s…” Damnit. “Am I making bad decisions because I want sex?”

Hux’s face actually… oh, no. He’s going to laugh. He is. His nose wrinkles and his eyes crease and his lips twist like he’s holding the sound in, and he drops to his hands, over Kylo’s shoulders, his neat hair falling forwards as their noses touch.

“Is that truly what you’re worried about?”

“Well. Yes.”

“Kylo… since you stopped arguing with me for the sake of arguing with me, you’ve been proposing alternatives in a more rational tone. You’ve actually _had good ideas I’ve supported_.”

“…I’m not a sycophant?”

“You’re actually turning into a fine, upstanding member of the First Order, but if you ask me to tell you that when you’re not in my ass, I will deny all knowledge.”

Kylo tries to remember before. He did have ideas before, but he always pushed them through brusquely, and in an argumentative fashion. But recently he’s just said what he thinks without trying to bash anyone (Hux) else. 

So. Sex is making him… sensible?

“Vykk thought I was your lap-dog.”

“Vykk likely hasn’t ever had an adult relationship in his life, Kylo.”

“But do people still fear me?”

“You have the Force. You can literally control, wipe, or twist their minds. Not to mention you could drop-kick them out an airlock. _Yes_ , they’re afraid, but… they respect you more, too, now.”

Really? Kylo bites his lip, and then pushes his face up for a kiss. He’s rewarded with one, and then a slow, teasing roll of Hux’s hips. The sensation pulls at his arousal, flooding good sensation in to soothe the worry, and he claws at the belts in frustration that he can’t _touch_.

“…you… prefer… this?” he asks.

“Yes, you nerf. I much prefer your argumentative side to come out here, where we can play with it, than on the bridge, where it detracts from work.”

“So you like me argumentative _here_?”

“…not what I said,” Hux sniffles, then tightens his hole and walls around him with a flinch.

It answers the question more than enough. Kylo smiles.

***

Hux lets his hands free once they’re sated, and even allows himself to curl up on Kylo’s chest. His body is thrumming with satisfaction, and Kylo strokes fingers through his hair, over his neck, and down his spine. 

There’s a baby inside of him. Small, and the spark of it growing by the day. A little flicker of Force without full form, without mind or intent. Just a growing little seed that will soon be a person. 

No, it isn’t ‘a’ baby, it’s ‘their’ baby. Their child. Kylo feels the grip of pride around his spinal column, and he moves to kiss and lap at the claiming mark on Hux’s throat. It’s overly sensitive now his hormones are kicking in, and he _melts_ like he’s fucking butter under his tongue. 

“You want to make good on that?” Hux asks, grinding against his lap.

“Don’t think I can come again tonight,” Kylo apologises.

“Doesn’t mean that’s all you can do for me.”

He lifts from his throat, and watches Hux’s face. They talk without words for a moment, then Kylo nods in acceptance of whatever it is he wants. He really _can’t_ get it up again so soon, but he doesn’t want to stop loving on him.

“Sit up.”

Hux climbs off him to let him obey, and he does. Up, against the headboard. He isn’t sure what’s next, but then his omega straddles his lap with a little wince at the movement. Kylo feels the sticky, fractious heat of slick and come against his thighs, and then his mate drapes arms over his shoulders.

“Use your hands and lips,” Hux orders him.

Kylo is only too happy to oblige. He starts with hands on Hux’s hips, holding him still as he laps over his neck, dragging blood to the claiming mark on his throat. He’s held in place as he suckles tight, but he’s not dumb enough to stay there for long. Lower, and he splays his hands over Hux’s back to hold him in place as he nuzzles, then laps at his nipples. They’re getting more tender, the further into his term he gets, and he’s rewarded by hisses and moans, jerky little abortive rolls of his hips over him. Kylo uses teeth and licks hard, making Hux’s voice turn to _incoherent babbling_ that makes him feel fucking proud as all hell.

The fingers in his hair pull and pry, not forcing him on, but encouraging his mouth to lave harder, and Kylo suckles down, pulling one nub into his mouth and tonguing it hard. He moves a hand between them, just his thumb gliding across Hux’s belly and feeling for the slightest thickening there. Barely apparent, but enough for his fingers to know. 

The Knight grabs Hux by the waist, lifting him up – and holding him there – as he kisses and rubs his cheek and nose against his belly, suffering little whacks and blows at his face and shoulders in response. He keeps it up until Hux is satisfied, and then pulls him back down into his lap for another kiss. 

“You’re a monster,” Hux accuses him.

“I’m your monster.”

They curl up together, and Hux has own lips against Kylo’s throat, mouthing at the scar he left there. It makes a coil of slow-burn heat induct through him, and they rock just a little back and forth for a while, lazily content with the contact.

“We have to tell him, you know,” Hux whispers, muffling the words into his neck.

There is only one _him_ that they could refer to like that. And there is only one thing _he_ would need to know. 

“Really? Don’t we need to be sure it’s—”

“We have to. If he finds out we have concealed the child from him…”

Kylo doesn’t want to do it. He doesn’t. The longer they can pretend this is just _them_ , and nothing to do with any bigger picture…

“I wish we didn’t have to,” the Knight says. It’s treason, or close to it. He knows that, and he knows how loyal Hux is to the Order.

Hux doesn’t say anything in response, and Kylo… doesn’t ever remember feeling as worried as he does right now.

Not ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to Snoke's interference with younger Ben/Kylo.

Kylo does not want to tell the Supreme Leader that he and Hux are expecting a child. In fact, they haven’t even told him that they’re a couple, though Kylo doesn’t know if he’s found out for himself. He’s partially concerned that he should have asked for permission, first, though he can always claim he was following the will of the Force and see if that excuses him.

Jedi aren’t supposed to form attachments, but he’s not a Jedi. The Leader has never told him he _can’t_ , but he’s also never told him he **can**. It’s too late to go back on it now, the claiming marks between them are all but impossible to over-ride. Snoke won’t want to lose his General, or the possibility of a future one in their child, but… he still might be unhappy with them both. 

In fact, why didn’t Hux think to ask? It seems like something his protocol-obsessive mind would remember to do. Kylo sits on the couch and fusses with his cowl, trying to get it to sit right over his shoulders, tilting his masked face towards the General as he steps out from the ‘fresher.

Hux _is_ showing, but only if you know to look, and understand it isn’t just a little too much good food making him thicken. His body curves more, and his normally svelte profile is starting to shift. He’s just as beautiful – maybe even _more_ beautiful – and they have to say something before it’s too late.

“Allow me,” Hux insists, coming closer and pushing his hands away to tidy him up. 

Kylo tilts his head, allowing his omega to fuss him to an acceptable level.

“Why didn’t you ask the Leader’s permission before approaching me?”

Hux pauses. “It was supposed to be a genetic transaction.”

“Yes.”

“There was no real need to. You were simply…” 

A genetic donor. It still stings a little, especially because he’s at least seventy-five percent convinced Hux only agreed to bond with him out of convenience and pleasure, not a real… (and what _is_ real?) connection to him. Kylo feels a little used, and it’s not wholly nice.

He wants to ask if this is any more than a marriage of said convenience, but he’s afraid the answer will be ‘no’. Hux allows him to show his own affection, gives him enough just to keep him from exploding, and treats him mean in ways he enjoys. It might not be the traditional way a couple forms, but he takes satisfaction in it. And does it matter if Hux… you know. If he feels anything? Does it matter if Kylo is happy? Is it a problem if the heart beats only one way?

He isn’t sure, yet. He likes to think he could be satisfied with what they have, and not feel… deficient, or like he’s missing out. Without Hux, he would likely have never mated at all, and so he should be grateful for what he has, not regretful for what he—

“Why didn’t you want children before?” Hux asks, cutting through the reverie.

It’s a little out of left field. They have plenty of time before the audience with the Leader, but Kylo is still taken aback by it. 

“You know why.”

“Humour me.”

How? Whatever he says will sound treasonous. Hux is devoted to the Order, first and foremost. Perhaps to their child, second. Kylo comes much later down in the list, and now he’s done the required insemination, he’s… dispensable.

“It’s nothing you would worry about happening.”

But he sees those blue eyes glide away, and a crease at the side of his lips. Teeth chewing the inside of his cheek, and tension making crows’ feet of his eyes. “I would like to be fully prepared for what is to come. It will allow me to plan. You may speak frankly, and I will act accordingly.”

“Even if it’s not something you want to hear?”

The focus snaps back to him, then. Sombre. Serious. A nod.

Kylo is treading on such, such thin ice. Hux could report his disobedience – even in thought alone – to the Leader. Although he’s sure the Leader’s felt enough of his… wavering over the years, it’s one thing to have doubts, and another to sow discord amongst senior staff.

“He will want to train the child. If it has the Force, he will… want to control them.”

“And? He trained you.”

Yes, Kylo thinks, and his mind sort of… stops right there. It’s almost impossible to engage with it, because his head tries to baulk away every time. How do you explain it to someone whose loyalty is unwavering in the system? Who believes – like Kylo _should_ – in the end result justifying all of their means?

“It was not always pleasant.”

He can say that. Pleasure isn’t required. Pleasure isn’t essential. It throws no actual judgement on the actions, but even Hux has to understand and accept that unpleasant situations exist. That a person would – if given the choice – avoid them.

“So unpleasant that you would… feel… uncomfortable with your child being put in that situation?” Hux surmises. “And… potentially have other ideas?”

Is he trying to get him killed? Is he pushing Kylo to see where his edges of loyalty are, to see where he is weak? To prove he’s worthy of being Hux’s partner? It’s a little late for that.

“Power and mastery over the Force are important,” he replies, as delicately as he can. “I am loyal to the Dark Side, to my Order.”

Hux thinks for a moment, then takes his hand. Kylo isn’t sure what he wants until it’s placed, flat-palmed, against the lightly full stomach. Deep inside, there’s the growing life. _Their_ child. The thought of letting it suffer, of it feeling as he did… a little choked noise escapes, and Kylo tries to pull away.

“I want to serve the Order, too,” Hux whispers. “But…”

But. There’s that word. That opening into something else: a parallel dimension, where things are different. A longing for something else, a hope and a fear all rolled into one.

“I didn’t take a mate because I couldn’t… I… didn’t think I could sit back and watch… it happen to them,” Kylo admits, as if through broken teeth and a bloody mouth. “Even if I know it will make them stronger, and help the Order.”

If he’d had his life over, would he have done things differently? Probably not. Far enough back and he’d had no choices of his own. He’d been forced to train with the sanctimonious Jedi, but he’d also been forced to… to listen to… the other teacher. 

Maybe he would have liked both sides to leave him to choose for himself, instead of try to push him. Allowed… allowed him to come to his own conclusions, and not—

The Dark is the answer. He knows that. He knows the Light isn’t enough without it, knows that – for him – he needs to use both, but there must be other ways than letting _Snoke in to stroke them into shape, to bend and warp and hurt them until they—_

“Kylo.”

His attention snaps back up, through the visor, to Hux’s eyes.

“Listen to me,” he says, and then nothing more.

For a moment, the silence is deafening. He’s waiting for the words that are supposed to follow, and Hux’s lips never move

Then he realises, and he listens _harder_. Listens to what Hux is **not saying**. __

_What if there was another way?_

Treason. High treason. Snoke would kill them both, and Kylo nearly rises to his feet. Hands push him gently back into the seat, and they look through the still, recycled air at one another. Between them, below Kylo’s own hand… the third party. The real one, not the one far, far away.

_He will **kill us both** , and our child._

_No. Not necessarily. If you are…_

Snoke will. Kylo is sure of it, and he feels nauseous and distressed, struggling to keep the sensations from spiralling outwards. He’s never been good at blocking himself, but he’s been used to the lack of a barrier between Snoke and his mind for so long. There was no point in struggling to maintain one, and his boundaries are so eroded that the slightest flicker of his doubt is… is…

_He will kill us for even thinking it, and take our child, and make them suffer worse than I ever did, to ensure it is loyal to him._

It is simply the truth of this situation. Kylo might well _want_ to… ‘rebel’ is too strong a word. Make his own path. He might well want to shelter and protect the innocent life Hux is incubating deep within, but he doesn’t want to make the situation worse for them.

_You are strong, aren’t you? He is old. I have the troops and the power of our artillery and armada. We could…_

Even the concept of it…

“He can control me,” Kylo admits. “He can access my thoughts. He would know.”

“That’s before you had me, and…” Another press of his hand to Hux’s stomach.

“You do not have the Force, Hux.”

“No, but you are my _mate_. And no Master’s bond will ever break that, will it?”

No. Kylo knew the minute his teeth sank into Hux’s flesh. His priorities had shifted, and Snoke hadn’t noticed, or punished him for it. “What is it you want from me?”

“If you want to bring our child up… as a joint endeavour… if you want an equal say in it, then there’s only one way for us both to be sure that’s the case.”

Because the Leader’s decisions would over-write both of theirs. Kylo understands, and he pushes his head into Hux’s stomach. His mask presses into his face where the clips and lines of contact are, his nose squashed in the attempt. 

He doesn’t want their baby to suffer. He doesn’t. He remembers the nights he spent as a child, and he remembers the days. He remembers… who he used to be, and what had made him who he is, now. He can’t cry, but that’s because it hurts too _much_. He could do it, couldn’t he? Show them Light and Dark without… without…

“What if we fail?” Kylo asks.

“If we don’t try, we _will_ fail. If we don’t try, then those things you fear **will** happen. What is more important to you?”

“ _You_ ,” he admits, with horror in his voice. “Both of you.”

“We can do this. We can. You’re stronger than you believe, and now you have my strength, too.” 

Hands under his mask, tilting his head up. 

Kylo wants to give him the galaxy, give it to them both. He wants to protect them, in ways he was never kept safe himself. His eyes scan Hux’s face for any sign of deception, desperate for it to be true and terrified at once. He’s convinced this isn’t a test of his loyalty to the Leader now, but he can’t be sure if it’s ambition that drives Hux, or a combination of that _and_ parental caring.

“My Alpha,” Hux whispers, his fingers sliding over the artificial brow curling around Kylo’s eyes. “Let us be strong together. If you believe we can be better for our child – _and_ the Order, and the **galaxy** – then we should do it.”

His Alpha. He is, though Hux is as fierce as one, and without him, Kylo is next to nothing. “For you.”

“For both of us,” Hux reminds him, nodding down to his belly. “I believe you can do it.”

“How?”

“Conceal our status, in this briefing. Pretend things are as they have ever been… and demand to meet him, face to face.”

“Under what pretence?”

“Give him none. Insist. You are an Alpha, and you are his Master of Knights. You _deserve_ the honour.”

Kylo rips off his mask, tossing it to one side, and stands. He grabs for his omega’s shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. He’s pleased by the reciprocity, the fingers holding him close. Lips and teeth and tongue speaking faster than words or even thought could hope to. They _are_ going to be late, now, and he doesn’t care.

 _I love you_ , he thinks, and knows he means it. Even if Hux doesn’t love him for himself, only for his knot, for his Force powers, his legacy and his protection. He’s not sure if Hux is even _capable_ of love like he is, but Kylo loves **him**. Enough to risk everything.

 _My Alpha_ , Hux thinks in return. _Show me your strength. Take control_.

But not of him. Of something bigger than them both.

This is going to be the hardest thing Kylo’s ever done. He’s fucking _terrified_ , and with good reason. The Leader… _Hux wants him to kill him_.


	6. Chapter 6

Snoke has been in his head since Kylo can remember. Snoke has been in his head since _before_ Kylo can remember, and… someone with another name existed, instead. But that person – the person he _was_ – is gone. He was weak. He was weak, and Kylo is not. Kylo is strong with both sides of the Force, and he…

Snoke can’t be inside his head _all_ the time. It would be too much effort, and it would be pointless, too. Kylo thinks plenty of mundane things all the time, much like everyone else does. He’s heard the insides of people’s heads, and he knows how often they stare at the marks on the bulkheads and imagine pictures there in the scratches or whorls. How they look at the stars, and draw constellations of their own creation. How they think about what they’ll eat later. How they think about how close the nearest bathroom is, and if they can wait until their break. How they think about things that have no importance beyond their own bodily functions, and things that others would stare at them for voicing aloud, and how dull existence is, for the most part.

Wake. Wash. Eat. Work. Sleep.

What is it the troopers say? _Shit, shower, shave_. Yes. Everything in a pattern, everything in an order. Everything following regime, and more space inside a head than life gives you things (and thinks) to fill. 

If Snoke really did listen to everything Kylo thought, he is sure the Leader would have gone insane and had him slaughtered by now.

But still.

That presence had started off so subtle (or, for the young boy he’d been, so incomprehensible), that Kylo’s never _truly_ been sure when it’s there, and when it isn’t. If there’s words or an order in his mind, that’s a _yes_. When there’s been active training and instruction and assessment, that’s also a _yes_. But as to the rest… he’s not certain.

When he was… a long time ago. A long time ago, the thoughts had just _been_. Or had they been his own? It’s difficult, looking back. There isn’t always a difference in pitch, and sometimes he thinks maybe he ‘hears’ what Snoke _would_ say, and he hears it ‘in’ his voice because he’s internalised him enough to anticipate. But it’s not like he can ask when the Leader is in his mind, and it’s not like he can pick through ancient memories to work out if the… if all of the impulses were… if he was naturally…

Hux has asked him to hold out. To _lie_. To outright _lie_ to the Leader, and doesn’t he understand what he’s asking for? Not only that, but Hux has somehow forgotten that Kylo has to deflect thoughts away from _his_ mind, too. Kylo can get into Hux’s head, so Snoke will find it even easier.

However… he does have motivation. There is a _reason_ to fight, now. And – weirdly – Kylo thinks it will be easier to risk himself for someone else. It could be that it’s paternal and spousal protectiveness, but he also is prepared to accept more hurt on his own shoulders than he’d like to witness in those he loves.

It’s just who he is, at the end of the day. It’s something he’d forgotten, lost in the years of seclusion.

 _Affection is weakness_.

The Supreme Leader’s hologrammatic presence towers above them, and Kylo is thankful for the mask.

“What did you request this audience for?” he asks, clearly irritated. 

It is normally the other way around, unless Hux or himself has something specific to report in. Neither of them have any projects with results to deliver, or updates to provide. This was – before – supposed to be their joyous (hah) announcement of their union and expectancy.

“Supreme Leader, I request you allow me to complete my training.”

He thinks it with all the anger and frustration he can muster. It’s not hard to tap into the well of how the delay has made him feel. ‘In time’ had been the refrain. In time he would be ready. In time he could complete his training. In time he would be sufficient.

It’s this, this longing and hunger and ambition he powers his shield with, filling his mind with a real sensation that is utterly believable, and entirely defensible. 

In Hux, too. He feels the same sense of _drive_ , of being held back. Kylo wonders if some of that is due to his type… would Hux be further along, if his body had been shaped differently? If his chromosomes and hormones had been otherwise? Would he be on that throne if he’d had the Force? It’s a fierce longing in him, and he’s forever felt it.

Forever felt it, and Snoke has either encouraged and endorsed, or tolerated it. It’s easy to pull it in with his own, to make the mantle spread wide like one tangled, glorious ball of vicious striving.

“Do you?”

“It is time,” Kylo says, finding the fire in his belly to push into his words. “There is no more for me to learn, here. I will serve you best with all my power unlocked. You will allow me to complete my training, and with that, I will wipe the Resistance from the galaxy, and – if the Jedi is still alive – he will have no support left to come back _to_. And – by the grace of your training – I will track him down, and **kill him** once and for all.”

Hands on the armrests, the looming, flickering form above leans in. Leans in, and peers down at him.

 **I want to be everything. I want to be powerful. I am ready. I am ready.** A mantra he echoes deep down into his bones, pulling at that Alpha pride, pulling at the knowledge of what the Dark (and the Light) _do_ for him. The feel of it coursing through him, the satisfaction when the world _bends to his will_ , the—

“Very well.” Snoke sits back. “You may make the arrangements.”

Kylo doesn’t think ‘thank you’ is appropriate, so he nods, instead.

And, beside him…

“What did the General want?” Snoke asks.

“I require more kyber crystals,” Hux says, his tone even more level than either Kylo or Snoke’s. “The _good_ kind.”

“You do not have sufficient?”

“Not sufficiently pure, Leader.”

“You are aware of their truest use?”

As saber-crystals for Dark Siders. Of course Hux knows, and his request for the highest calibre is oh so very deliberate: a testing, a poking, a prodding. Hux has always done it, and Kylo now realises Hux does it to _everyone_. He pushes his agenda, makes his whole self seem to be In Control (or in need of being In Control), and it isn’t even a _mask_. Or, it is, but not for what everyone thinks.

“You may have one dozen.”

The connection clicks out, and they are left alone.

Kylo sways, the realisation of their deception not yet… clicking properly. He has to keep up the pretence, the facade, for just a little longer. Has to…

“Ren, are you planning on staying here all night?”

No, he isn’t.

***

When they get back to their rooms, Kylo nearly collapses. The tension of maintaining the cover – the relief at being undetected – the _fear_ of what could have happened – it all crashes down at once in one fierce, unbearable wave of emotion he can’t help but buckle under.

The door behind him shuts, and he drops back against it. Head back, eyes closed, heart pounding.

Hard. Hard. Thud, thud, thud. He isn’t sure if he’s breathing or not, because all he knows is the double-pump action of his heart’s chambers, and it’s a jolt to his senses when fingers snap at his helmet, ripping it off, throwing it to one side.

Kylo can’t even really _see_ for a moment. He’s not gone blind, but he’s aware there’s things moving he just can’t track internally, like the input is there, but it isn’t processed. The light and movement paints across his retinas, and nothing more.

“Ren… Ren… _Kylo_.”

Hands on his cheeks, over his shoulders, rocking him lightly. Shock. He kind of knows. Shock. That’s what’s going on right now, and…

A hand cracks across his face, turning it to one side. Pain should follow, and doesn’t, and it’s not until he hears a note of distress in Hux’s tone that he manages to pull himself from the swamp inside.

“W-what’s wrong?” he slurs, trying to focus his vision to make sense of the blurs in front of it.

“Kylo… is he in your head?”

“Who?”

“The _Leader_. Is he in your head?”

“N-no, I…” 

The hands are warm on his clammy face, and his tongue doesn’t want to work. It feels like it’s a snake threatening to choke him, fat and unresponsive. He looks into Hux’s eyes and… 

_Please_? he thinks, pushing it into his head, the concept easier to communicate on an emotional level than a verbal one.

There’s a flicker of hesitation and worry, then Hux nods.

Kylo _tries_ to go gently, but it’s hard. The aftermath of so much bottling – so much denial and detachment – is that everything he felt before comes out in a rush. Into Hux’s head, making the other grunt in response. 

Panic, fear, horror, disgust, pain. Memories. Things he wanted to keep to himself, but he—

He didn’t want to push those out, it’s something else he wanted. He wanted… hands clutch Hux’s sleeves as he rakes against his mind, needing to feel something grounding and sure. It’s wrong of him to do this, but he feels so out of control. He needs something solid and reliable, something steadfast and sure, and his brown eyes catch on Hux’s.

_Am I safe?_

Hux nods, and a hand strokes into his hair. He can sense Hux’s fear, trepidation… disgust and anger. It makes him recoil until Hux growls at him.

“It’s not you. It’s _him_.”

“What?”

“I’m angry… at _him_. This… this is what you wanted to protect our child from? This… is why you were afraid?”

Kylo’s struggling. It feels like the emotion is too big for his body, like to let it inside would rip him open. Like it’s so big you can’t see around it, so you can no longer see anything at all. A Star Destroyer eclipsing your vision, and becoming the only truth you know. He wavers, and the contact at his face… then there’s a subtle push as Hux tries to think loudly through the still-open connection.

“I’m sorry,” Hux says.

“Why?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Why would you?” Kylo blinks fiercely. “You wouldn’t. Why would anyone know?”

Anyone. Anyone ever. Kylo’s barely spoken of it at all, not even… even when it… lied, right in their faces. Shame, and self-loathing. He feels bile in his mouth, threatening to make him lose his lunch. _He only feels it because he’s too weak to—_

Hux actually yanks him from the door, and pulls him against his shoulder. Kylo doesn’t understand for a moment, but then there’s that weird… aching? Pangs of something like… sympathy. Guilt. 

“I’m sorry I put you through that,” Hux says, and it feel-sound-rings like it’s true. “I didn’t mean to cause you such pain.”

Why? Because he has to handle him, after? The thought slips in, and he can _sense_ the hurt it causes inside of Hux.

“I don’t want you to hurt like this,” comes the careful, prickly response. “Not like this.”

“Why?”

It seems fair, but it’s also not. He shouldn’t expect any kind of caring from…

“You don’t think I care about you? About how you feel, or what happens to you?”

“…I didn’t say…”

“You thought it.” Hux’s voice is twisted in agony. “I know I am not… I know I am not… the most… demonstrative of people, but I thought when I… agreed to this in its entirety, that you would…”

“Think I was more worth than trouble?” 

Hux holds him away, then, pushing him back into the door. “Just because I am not as forthcoming with my emotional responses, or affection, it doesn’t mean I don’t _have_ them. I thought you… understood. I thought…”

Kylo can feel the rest of the message, loud and clear. _I thought you knew I cared_. _I thought you didn’t hate me for being me. For finding it hard to express_.

“You did a good job of hiding it,” Kylo admits. “And I didn’t want to… demand it, or… push.”

“You didn’t just… go into my head to see anyway?”

He shakes his, vehemently. “It isn’t right. Not… not to someone you care about.”

Hux’s eyes blink brighter. “You… were trying to respect my privacy? And… you didn’t mind… you were okay with me… not being prone to gushing?”

“I didn’t even know if you _cared_ ,” he points out, his heart slowly levelling out to a normal pace.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Ren.”

“Yeah, well, at least I can admit when I like someone.”

“You were going to _assassinate the Supreme Leader and you didn’t even know how I felt about you_?”

Well. Yes. He was. Kylo’s about to reply with something deeply meaningful and significant when there’s lips on his, and he’s kissed with a fucking furious abandon that makes his heart skitter fast _again_. He can feel – now – unrepressed affection and pride.

Pride. In him. _Hux is proud of him_. Hux thinks he’s a _good Alpha_. Hux.

His omega is one hell of a strange person, to be so pleased that his mate would do things for him without needing love in return.

The Knight whimpers into his mouth, and grabs his hands around Hux’s waist, knotting his fingers together behind, lifting him up despite the light slap of a rebuke.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Did I, or did I not, just act like a good Alpha for you?”

“You had a fucking nervous breakdown as a result, you idiot.”

“Still counts,” Kylo insists, smiling up at him.

“It absolutely does _not_.”

But Hux is fighting a smile, and not him. He allows himself to be hoisted from the floor, and waits for Kylo to move. 

“Well, how about you agree it’s a _start_?”

Hux considers for a moment – making a show of it – and then nods. “You’re almost _tolerable_. But the panic will need to stop.”

Kylo swallows at that. _I’m sorry_. 

His omega grabs his hair, pulling his head to one side to expose the silver marks his teeth had left there. “Together, we will make sure you never have to feel like that again,” Hux promises. 

And it isn’t angry. It isn’t disappointed. It isn’t Hux judging him as useless, even if Kylo had most assuredly felt it. Weirdly, he feels… understanding. _Compassion_. Kylo walks him through their rooms to the bed, and gently places his beloved mate down. He sinks to his knees at the foot of the bed, bowing his head.

“Whatever you want from me,” he promises. “I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

Kylo nods, and purrs just a little at the feeling of his hair being stroked. “Anything.”

“Even remember that just because you’re being a good Alpha…”

“ _You_ are in control,” Kylo confesses. His eyes flash up, reading his face, looking for approval. He can do that, can’t he? Be a good Alpha – protective and caring and in control – and still submit to his omega, behind closed doors? He can be… he can be what an Alpha should be, and still kneel?

“Good boy.” Hux spreads his legs, and tugs at his head. “Eat me well, and I’ll reward you, my Alpha. You’ve been very, very good today.”

Weirdly, the praise just… makes his chest ache. Like it’s stretched out, and Kylo grabs Hux’s hips and pulls him to the edge of the bed, his face buried between his clothed legs to rub his nose and lips against him. “Yes, Sir.”

He did it. He _did it_. He kept the secret, and this… could work? Really? With Hux’s ambition and direction, and his strength and abilities? They could actually make the world safe for their child? And Hux… _cares_. He does. Even though Kylo had been terrified he was nothing more than a glowing sword (and not just in his pants) for Hux to wield… he’s _felt_ it. Felt the anger on his behalf, the concern, the shock and horror and… it’s good. More than good.

Between them, they ease off his clothes. Kylo lets Hux use him for support as he arches up from the bed and shimmies out of his pants and boxers, and his lips follow his hands as he pulls the man’s shirt off. The boots thunk far away, socks inside, and then he’s left with a naked omega. 

Who is beautiful. Who is beyond beautiful, and even more important than that… he’s chosen to give himself to Kylo. He’s allowed him inside, and he knows from his earlier shock that Kylo hadn’t just _taken_ his thoughts, how much that means to him. 

His thumbs swirl at the slight curve of his hips, and he starts his lips off at his lover’s belly. The slight bump can’t do more than respond to the pulse of reassurance, more gut-instinct-response, not yet formed enough for anything more complicated. But getting there, day by day. He gazes lovingly up at Hux, and… he can _think_ that term, now, without worrying Hux will find his emotion sickening or repulsive or unwarranted.

“Want to keep you safe,” Kylo admits.

“The feeling is mutual, you idiot,” Hux smirks back at him.

It’s okay to think that, too. It’s not a controlling impulse, it’s something else. Making the galaxy safe is not the same as taking the offensive, and he kisses up and down Hux’s cock, nudging it up against his belly. He licks little, flickery swipes with the very tip of his tongue. Over to the crown, which he swirls around and then suckles very softly at.

“Good boy,” Hux whispers, his voice going sultry-low. He strokes and pets, his hands gentle. “Show me what that mouth of yours is good for. Kiss it all better.”

 _Whatever you ask_.

He holds on firmer, and uses his nose to push Hux’s balls up enough to slip his face below. His mate tilts to help, and finds a weird balancing point as he hisses at the feel of lips against his hole.

“Eat me good, Ren. Remind me why I’m risking everything.”

“For my mouth?”

“…and your dick,” Hux admits, but he’s not wholly serious, because there’s a little wash of affection and concern in the air. 

“Because you couldn’t have both _and_ remain loyal to the Leader?”

“ _Not if you want our child to grow up safe_ ,” Hux growls.

And _there_ is a familiar sentiment. It’s what _Kylo_ feels about his mate, and their child. And he feels how fiercely Hux does, buried though it may be; right now, it blazes through him. A slower heat, or one that is hidden by strata of rock, but it’s _there_. 

His tongue pushes in, and then Hux’s legs curl around his shoulders and the man grunts, riding his lips fiercely. 

“ **Harder** ,” Hux insists, his heels drumming against Kylo’s shoulders. “Like you _mean_ it. Do you have _any_ idea what it’s like having this thing growing in me?”

Only what Hux has told him. He knows he’s starting to need bigger clothes, and now the nausea part’s (hopefully completely) gone by, the cravings and the moodiness has started to kick in. He finds Hux’s ankles with his hands, massaging them gently as he laps and slurps at his hole. 

“Better… come on. If you had the cramps I do, you’d f— _yes that’s better_ …”

Kylo grabs Hux’s ass, shoving at him until he falls onto his back and he can get into position better. A hand on his cock, stroking him firmly in synch with his tonguing, loving the slight shift in his taste. It’s not breed-me heat, but it’s bond-me slick. It’s something deeper, and he forces his lips into a seal around his hole as he strokes back and almost out of him, pulling at the very sensitive skin and he’s about to aim for his prostate when hands pull him up and away from Hux’s ass. 

His tongue laps his face clean as he peers up, waiting for more instruction. 

“I want your hands on my stomach while we fuck.”

Kylo grins. “I can’t put more in yet, you know.”

“No, but don’t think I’m going to want to stop with just one.”

Oh… _good_. Kylo feels his face split in half. _Multiple_ children to spoil and love. He watches Hux move onto all fours, spit-and-slick glistening ass pushed up into the air in a promise.

“Don’t think you’re fucking me still dressed, Ren.”

“Was that an order?”

A foot – bare – smacks him in the face, and he falls backwards, laughing slightly. Okay, okay. The worry and fear are almost impossible to remember in the safety of Hux’s affection. He pulls the layers off, shucking them to join Hux’s, before he climbs onto the bed. 

And waits. Hands around his waist as requested, fingers gliding messages into his belly. He wonders how long before he feels their child kicking, how soon before they know the gender? How soon before they come up with names? Rolling happily through these thoughts, he lets a flicker of warming sensation pulse into his lover’s body, trying to ease the cramps.

He doesn’t enter him, not without permission. Little rocks against him, his cock sliding between his thighs and teasing at Hux’s balls. With some effort, they move like waves against a coastal edge together, and the feeling is almost enough to make up for what he’s _not_ yet doing.

Hux _arches_ , the lordosis of invitation, and a little, wanton noise that tests his patience cruelly hard. More rocking, more slick dripping between them, and Kylo fans his hands wider, pulling Hux in a sway against him. 

“You want to fuck me, don’t you?” his omega teases.

“ _Yes_.” Fuck yes.

“How badly?”

A slam of his weight against his ass, the sound of skin ringing. “ _That_ badly.”

“What if I told you… you couldn’t?”

Hux. On his hands and knees. His asshole drippingly ready for him, his cock full and begging. Kylo against his legs, nestled under his balls. And he’s _suggesting that_? He’s a monster, and Kylo makes it evident in his groan. 

And yet.

“I’d do what you wanted.”

It’s true. It would kill him, almost, but he’d _do_ it. He’d wrack himself against Hux’s balls, and stroke them off together. He’d jerk Hux off, and go into the ‘fresher to deal with his own problem. He’d… fuck. If he _really_ wanted? He’d just stop outright. 

Because that’s what matters: _Hux_. More so than anything their bodies want. Every physical instinct in him is screaming at his mind that he’s doing this _wrong_. That he should just take whatever he wants, that he should remind Hux he’s a bitch and he’s owned and have his pleasure. That he should just rut them both to bliss and stop letting Hux control him.

 _And he’s not going to listen to that voice_. No. Hux’s voice is more important than his own, and even if it’s nigh-on impossible to obey…

He can feel the smugness, mixed with… relief? Gratitude, and satisfaction with his obedience. Hux loves to control him as much as he loves to be controlled, and he realises what a vulnerable position Hux has put himself in, just to exert that control.

“Anything?” his omega asks.

“ _Anything_.”

“You’d give me the galaxy?”

“I’d give it to you _twice._ ”

“I hope not, that implies you lost it at least once.”

Always the literal one. Kylo finds his mate’s cock and starts to stroke it firmly, making sure he pays attention to the flickers and moans. “Then I’d give you a second galaxy, in case you got bored, or wanted to accessorise.”

Hux clearly can’t think too well with the hand on his prick, and Kylo feels the thoughts get more jumbled and incoherent. There’s no rejection of it, so he keeps it up. 

“I’ll keep you _safe_ ,” he says, and means it. Even if it costs him his own safety. Even…

“I’ll keep _you_ safe, too,” Hux spits, anger in his tone. “I’m not raising our child alone, Kylo. You’re stuck with me, now.”

Kylo doesn’t remember the last time he felt someone could protect him, but maybe. Maybe, just maybe. “ _Thank you_.”

“Put your dick in and show me how grateful you are, then, you overgrown Alpha idiot.”

With fucking **pleasure**. Kylo moves rapidly, grabbing his cock and helping it to slip inside. Hux is loose and ready, the scent of his arousal a wonderful undercut to the air. His back arches more as Kylo thrusts into his waiting hole, and then he can grab at his waist again and hold onto his stomach, and start his piston-slow movements.

“Oh _yes_ , like that…”

“You feel so good,” Kylo tells him, sinking into that welcoming grasp. “So, so good.”

“I know,” Hux says, glancing over his shoulder, looking smug.

It is _not_ what he really means, and Kylo bends to kiss one shoulderblade. “May I move?”

“You may, so long as you continue to please me.”

“I would hate to fail you.” And it’s true. He would.

This angle is good for depth, if not for speed and pressure. But it means he can feel Hux tilt his hips with their grinding, can enjoy the weird tension of being controlled by someone he’s literally on top of. Deep, deeper, all the way in… 

“My… cock,” Hux grunts. _Touch it_.

Kylo does, and clenches as he fucks Hux into it with every nudge in, gratified by the low, blissed-out sounds he’s fucking from him. Every slam makes Hux’s body tighten around him, and Kylo can feel his cock answering, getting close to the edge. 

_Please. Please. I need to knot you. Omega…_

_Fucking **give it to me like you mean it.**_

That’s all the permission he needs. Kylo can’t do anything complicated with the hand on Hux’s prick, but he _can_ let go of his self-restraint, unleash that bit of him he’d been holding back. The maddening desire to _move_ , and the bed becomes an insane blur of thighs slapping and a leaking, begging dick that… 

_Fucking **love you,**_ he thinks, letting the emotional confession out as his knot pops inside, the swelling ratcheting in one last knock of skin-to-skin. He leans down, biting over the healed claiming mark, reminding him of the promise inherent in it, feeling the circuit thrum between lips and teeth and throat and ass and dick and everything else, all at once.

Hux screams, high-pitched and joyous, his body tugging at the tie to prove it’s there, then: _Please, Kylo. Please. I love you, too_.

He fists his lover’s shaft as rapidly as he can, determined to bring him right over the cliff with him. Strokes even as Hux’s body flares out hard through the Force, his climax spurting out past Kylo’s hand, riding on a wail of satisfaction and happiness.

Hux loves him back. Kylo’s cock won’t stop pumping him full, and he kisses across his face and to his lips. Long, gulpy kisses that taste and swap and promise all over again. Hux tastes of power, feels like the Force itself under his tongue. Kylo _loves_ it.

They’re due to be tied for some time yet, and the Knight forcibly rolls them onto one side the minute he’s able to. He spoons up against Hux’s thrumming form, and kisses his cheek until he gets his lips. 

He feels a hand join his, cupping the fingers around Hux’s spent cock. It’ll be a moment before he can come again, but a little movement to get his pulsing knot against the man’s prostate, and Hux is left babbling wildly in pleasure. Senseless, wordless noises that pour out gratitude through the Force at the careful attentions, and Kylo is glad he can get _something_ right. It’s a long pause before the tightening slows on his prick.

A hand reaches back and over them, to his shoulder, and he feels the surging protective wave in Hux again. 

“When we’re the only ones left standing, you won’t ever regret the risks we took,” the General promises. The words are a little slurry and slow, but they’re sure and even.

“I already don’t. I’ll manage it: I have _you_.”

He has Hux. He has Hux to fight for, and Kylo made his decision back in that audience chamber. That was the real point of no return, and the shock afterwards… he hopes it’s a one-time deal.

Because everything else will be easier, now. Or it feels like it will, and he’s not sure if that’s the gloriously sinful ass milking every last drop of his pleasure through his prick. 

“I’ll give you _three_ galaxies.”

“One is plenty, Kylo. I can’t be _everywhere_ at once.”

“Fine. But I would.”

“I know you would,” Hux says, and cranes to push their noses together. “Get the other ones for our children, instead.”

Oh, good point. If they have half of Hux’s ambition, they’re going to be… interesting.

His omega doesn’t stay on topic for long. “Now… I thought you said you’d make this good?” 

Hux shunts at him, and Kylo puts a hand below Hux’s balls, massing his prostate against the knot inside. Hux _screams_ , and comes all over again at the stimulation.

“Bastard,” the General accuses him.

“Again?”

“If you don’t make me want to black out before the night is through, you are _not_ doing your job as my mate.” Hux nips at an earlobe. 

“Far be it for me to disappoint…” 

Especially if said disappointment got in the way of more glorious, filthy, loving sex. Kylo doesn’t want to let him down in any way, but that would be so ironic as to not bear thinking about. He slides his fingers over Hux’s balls again, smirking at the noises he gets in return.

Not a disappointment. No.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the warning changes.

So. Kylo. Is going to – he – he’s going to see Snoke. Right now. He’s going to see Snoke. He _reeks_ of sexual bonding and happiness, he’s _head over heels_ in love with his mate – not just lover, but _mate_ – and they’re expecting a child.

And he’s – apparently – concealed all of this change to the Leader. Either Snoke is more fallible than he realised, or he’s no longer paying adequate attention. 

The third option is the worst: that Snoke _knows_ , and has agreed to this in order to kill him. To do so personally, as a message to others who might want to stray. He’d lose Hux as well as Kylo, but he’s seen the man annoyed before. He’s seen him lose his temper, and sense isn’t always on his mind.

Hux is behind, on the _Finalizer_. Kylo is on his command shuttle, stalking up and down, reminding himself of all the reasons this needs to work, all the fire he needs to put in his belly, all the—

Through the Force, he feels it. A spark of sense, the first stirrings of sensation. He knows, somehow, that it’s their child. Their child, growing stronger, reaching out for both its parents. Kylo _has_ to protect it, no matter what the cost to himself.

He braces himself. Dark. Light. The anger of one who is hurt; the fear of one who was a child. The love of one who is complete; the protective, selfless fire of one who _has_ a child. He will use both, and he will emerge victorious.

***

Snoke is not as tall as he remembers. Is it that he’s grown? He doesn’t think he’s grown much. Is it that he was more intimidated back then? Or is it the augmented height through the holo-emitter for so long on their conference calls now making his actual size less impressive?

Kylo doesn’t know, but he does know that this person… looks… well. Like a warped and aging man. He looks less vital and vigorous, and Kylo suspects he’s been kept away to ensure this disillusionment doesn’t whittle away the air of mystique and power. 

Even so, it isn’t wise to underestimate the man. Kylo has no idea how old his Master is, but from the scars on his face and the things he knows… it’s a long, long time since Snoke was small. You don’t live as long as he has without some skill, and Kylo’s felt the strength and breadth of his Force-powers. 

Snoke was even stronger than the last Jedi. Kylo had hoped so for most of his life, wanting the fight to be _settled_ , one way or another. And it had been.

They’d killed him. Kylo, in person. Snoke, from afar. Such was his skill that he didn’t even need to be in the same star system as you to reach you.

And now… like the tales of old, the student was ready to usurp the Master. Kylo had killed Luke. Kylo would kill Snoke. There would only be his Knights left, and even then… 

Well. They’d try to kill him, wouldn’t they? That was how the Force worked. A constant cycle of the uninitiated absorbing strength until they could take the apex point. He hopes that having multiple students – with no clear leader – will keep them vying with one another for top spot, instead of vying with _him_. For a little while, anyway.

Snoke’s robes are long. His sleeves impractical, his cloak down to his ankles. Even the Jedi and Sith of old would shuck their outer layers before combat, but then – why would Snoke expect to need to? The Master stands there, and Kylo plants his feet.

“You think you are ready to finish.” His voice resonates less, no chambered walls to bounce off. No scrambler over his lips. 

Kylo remembers, in an awkward flash, how old and worn Luke had been. Han. Both are gone, and he seems to be single-handedly wiping the table clear of old stains and overturned glasses.

“I am.”

His saber finds his hand, and he flicks the cross-guarded red plasma out, and holds it before his face. Weight on the balls of his feet, body reaching out to the Force.

As he stretches his senses out, he feels the other presence pushing in. This is how the training always starts: Kylo attempting to hold himself inviolate, before he is beaten into submission. Snoke reasserting his dominance, and Kylo acknowledging that he can only _learn_.

To begin with, the defeats had been many and rapid. His proud, childish heart had not taken any loss inside for long, and he’d hurled himself back into the fray over and over, until – on more than one occasion – he’d been stretchered out. 

Later, he’d learned to guard some of his strength. To try his arm against Snoke’s, but to keep a reserve for his own sanity and safety. There was no point in giving it your all if you’d calculated it wouldn’t be enough, and the sooner the initial slap-down was over, the sooner the training started (and thus: finished). 

Without his vision, without the distractions it brings, he feels the crackling death-promise in his hands. It’s a barrel to sight down, a bead, a tracer-shot. It’s a fulcrum, a nexus, and a weapon all in one.

Under the mask, his breathing slows. His sense of _self_ expands, and he feels the Dark wave of Snoke’s own mind a moment before it unleashes.

And Kylo _puts his feet down firmly_ , and takes it. Takes it, as he always does. Takes the nasty, twisted, horrid thoughts. The promises. The images. The smell of decay, the screams of children. The ugly shearing of bone. The stress of joints pulled to popping. The inevitability of _Darkness_. The giddy, wine-drunk feel of winning. Of _killing_. Of **destroying**.

His hands – gloved – creak on the hilt. The voice wants him to turn it off, to surrender. He knows where the switch is, the one that kills the light. He knows how much pressure is needed to notch it to _off_ , and he knows how the circuit inside is interrupted when he does so. He knows.

He made the thing with his own two hands.

The generic rumblings do nothing, and Snoke needles harder. Threads of memories, things that once were enough to…

_Children. They were children. But he did it quickly. He did not linger. He did not make them suffer. He made it quick. It was them, or him. It was him, or some other would do it. It was a mercy. Perhaps he would do it again. Perhaps—_

“You grow stronger,” Snoke’s voice echoes, aloud. It’s in his head, and out. 

“I am ready,” he growls. 

They were regrettable, but necessary. They are gone. Mourning them does no good. They are gone, and there only three lives he now cares for, and one of those is himself.

“You are… hiding something.”

“Not from myself.” His nose feels like it’s leaking, and it might well be. The pounding is like a factory-line droid inside his mind. 

Snoke does not lift his hand, does not move. But Kylo feels the brunt increase, and he wants to scream in agony, but he _can’t_. He can’t because he has to be _strong_. Has to bundle the little, flickering Light and Love in him. _It is not a weakness, no matter what Snoke thinks_. 

The locker in his heart stays shut, and he doesn’t know how. He just feels like Hux’s hands curl inside him, keeping it shored up, shielding it from view. It feels like – with it – the weakness, insecurity, and fear are gone, too. 

Everything goes strangely still, and he opens his eyes.

Snoke looks – for a moment – confused. 

Then there’s a shove at his whole being, and Kylo has to dig his heels in and push _back_ to prevent the Force-shunt from sending him ass over elbow. This is it. This is when Snoke realises he’s lost control of him, no matter the pain he can inflict. 

Kylo won’t surrender this time. He’s already made that decision: do, or die. And if he does die, Snoke will never know Hux’s secret. Not from him, anyway.

Red comes out ahead, and Kylo has never seen Snoke arm himself before. This really is the moment, and he pulses _back_.

Pushes back with everything in his gut. With all the broken nights, with pillows over his head. With all the sobbing in closets. With all the bloodied fists. With the screams, with the punishments, with the screams, with the horror, with the screams. With the rage he swallowed into his bones and blood, with the _certainty_ that he’d rather rip his own skin from his skeleton before he let Snoke touch _his child_ inside like he has been.

He springs forwards, and his cross-guarded blade smacks into Snoke’s with full force, almost staggering him.

“Good!” Snoke croons, still thinking he’s winning. Still thinking he’s training Kylo.

His arrogance will be his downfall. His arrogance, and his inability to truly understand that the love in Kylo never made him _weak_.

He acts on pure instinct, his mind letting go as the Force flows through him. The secret box inside of him that only he can feel, the core of himself protected at last. The rage whirls around the love, and he tests his arms and wrists and blade against Snoke’s.

The words stop when the older man realises what’s happening – or to some degree. The mental barrage kicks in again, but Kylo is already in a zone, already away from any pain. Other emotions drive him, and he throws a crack of thunder-heavy air that staggers Snoke.

It’s that. That’s what does it. The faltering step, the slip backwards.

Kylo knows he’s not invulnerable, not any more. The chink in the armour is enough, and his form-and-flow melt together as he pushes his advantage. He hits the Leader’s saber-hand, and it clatters away.

Snoke smiles, but it’s unpleasant. “Very well done, my student,” he purrs, pretending that this was all part of his training. Unless it was? “You have—”

“Enough,” Kylo says, and slices him in half from shoulder to hip.

Just like that.

One gesture, and the Leader is no more.

Kylo stares at the cauterised halves, kicks one with his foot, then grabs the dropped saber.

He walks out, and no one questions him all the way back to his command shuttle.

Snoke. Is. Dead.


	8. Chapter 8

Flying back to the _Finalizer_ is surreal. He doesn’t know if all the troops on board know what’s just happened. In fact, until they _do_ anything, no one is likely to know. Kylo airlocked the two halves of his corpse, told no one, and demanded he go back ‘home’. 

But everything has changed. Everything.

The puppet master with hands gnarled into his strings is gone. The pain inside his skull, the never-ending fear of being watched… gone.

He could never have done it for himself. He would never have been able to, if not for Hux and the thought of their child. Without Hux, he is less strong. He has less to fight for, less to power him. He’d stayed under Snoke’s withered thumb because he had no idea what to do if he ever left. Kylo had never wanted to take over, never wanted to be the Master of all. 

Looking back, he suspects it’s because he _needs_ someone to be above him. And in Hux, it’s someone who seems to care about his wellbeing for its own sake. He doesn’t have the Force, but he doesn’t _need_ it. 

Kylo doesn’t know what comes next, but he’s sure _Hux_ does.

***

Hux is on the deck, waiting for him. Troopers line the path, respectful and unmoving. Kylo walks down the gangplank, a swirl of black robes, and then halts before the General.

“Well?”

He drops to one knee, head bowed, and reaches to his belt.

The second hilt – Snoke’s old blade – lies across his palms as he offers it up in a pledge of fealty. A job completed. A victory.

The hiss of breath is more than just Hux, and Kylo is gratified to hear it. They likely never expected to see the Knight kneel for any but Snoke, and now…

“Supreme Leader,” Kylo names him. “The First Order is yours.”

There’s a pause before his omega takes hold of the saber, and Kylo knows, deep in his bones, that Hux is memorising this moment for posterity. He’s committing every detail to his mind. He’s revelling in it. 

“You’ve done well, my Knight,” the man says. “Rise. I need you to rule by my side.”

They have never acknowledged their relationship openly before, and it makes his head light and giddy. Kylo does stand, and is surprised by fingers grasping the faceplate of his mask. He submits to Hux’s hands, pulled in close as if to kiss, and swallows hard.

“I love you,” Kylo whispers, although the closest troopers must hear.

“I love you, too,” Hux replies. He pulls harder on that mask, and their foreheads touch. “And I’m going to show you, as you’ve shown me.”

Kylo’s pretty sure he already knows, but a little reinforcement never did any harm.

***

Back in their rooms. He stands, still, frozen to the spot by a command not to move. He wants to touch, but he’s not allowed, and so he simply has to stay where he’s come to a halt. 

Hux fondles the saber-hilt like it’s something inherently sexual, his fingers following the flow, rising over concentric rings, nails tracing the depressed sections. Kylo watches, feeling the touches almost over his own skin. Hux is _glowing_ with satisfaction and pride, and Kylo knows he’s proud of _him_. He’s proud of him, for doing as he was ordered to.

And the pleasure washes over him, bathes him, makes his own skin tingle like he’s under a hot sun, despite all the layers.

He wants to kneel again, but he’s been told to wait. The conflicting drives send his head to swimming, and he watches as Hux lifts the business end of the unlit saber and points it at him.

He’s close enough that – should he ignite it – even Kylo would struggle to survive. It goes against every lesson they teach you of any weapon: do not point it at someone you don’t want dead. Hux does not want him dead, but he wants Kylo to remember he _could do it_. 

The saber – used like an extension of the Gen—the _Leader’s_ body… it traces around the cowl that clings to his mask, pushing it back. 

Kylo can feel it like it’s touching his skin. He can feel it like it’s turned on, and every connection is electric. He feels the light pressure on his face as the weapon caresses his mask, following the lines and angles. His eyes drift shut in bliss, his knees locking and then softening as he tries to keep still.

“You don’t need this thing, do you? Unless you’re fighting.”

“No,” Kylo agrees.

“Take it off. Take it off, right now.”

Kylo’s hands lift, find the clasps, and part the mask away from his features.

Without it, he can’t school his expression the same. He can’t modulate his face, but that isn’t a problem in here. Only out _there_. (Though he wonders if anyone would ever dare feel unintimidated by him, now.) Hux throws his mask with a clatter to the side – denting it further – and then the hilt touches his face for real.

Kylo does his best not to think where it’s been, but it shows in his features, possibly, because Hux grabs his throat with one hand to distract from the switcheroo. The older weapon is notched back onto his belt, and then Kylo feels his own being retrieved.

He wouldn’t let anyone else touch his saber – no innuendo intended. It’s highly personal, but Hux can hold it. Hux can hold anything he damn well wants. Watching his fingers stroke the handgrip down to the quillions and back… oh, but that’s _hot_. He imagines his dick in that hand, moving down to the balls, and lets out an unmanly whimper.

“ _Please_.”

“Such a good little Alpha, aren’t you?” Hux croons, and the weapon zigs and zags across his face, chasing scar-lines, bumping roughly over his nose and then to his lips.

Kylo opens them, even as the other hand grabs his hair and yanks so hard he can see whole galaxies of stars. The dark metal – warm from his hip – scrapes across his lip, tugging it away from his teeth. So close. One button press and he’d die. One button press, and Hux would rid the galaxy of the Force, or near enough.

“Yes,” Kylo agrees, feeling like he is. He is. He’s good for _Hux_. He’s the Alpha he _needs_. Strong, and able to bend.

The open aperture thrusts into his open mouth, and he tongues at the shielding, moaning as if it was something else in his mouth instead. His weapon is designed to survive submersion, so a little fellatio won’t hurt it. If anything, it’s his mouth he should worry about, but he pushes down until the cross-guards hit his cheeks, and then looks up to see if Hux approves.

“Such a good little boy,” Hux croons. “But you need to remember who is the real Alpha.”

Hux pulls the weapon out and away, and Kylo yelps in surprise. His head is dragged to one side, and careful lips graze over his scarred throat. He gets no more warning than that before teeth sink back in, the force of it breaking the skin all over, reclaiming him. A splash of blood in the air, and his mate’s wicked tongue laves at the lacerations, refusing to let them rest, or clot. Dragging fresh, sharp pain through him, down his spine. 

Kylo’s hands claw at his own hips, fighting the need to _do_. He whimpers, and… fine. Begs. “ _Please_.”

“Please what?” Hux asks, kissing bloody up to his ear. “What does my little bitch need?”

“ _You_.”

Kylo squeaks at the sound of a saber lit. He tries to turn his eyes, but the hand in his hair forces his head away from it. He can _hear_ it thrumming, right there. Right there. Feel the way the hairs on his skin pull towards it as if magnetised. Then there’s a smell of burning and he stands _perfectly still_ as Hux uses the small exhaust vent to burn through his clothing. 

Really? It’s hot, but it’s dangerous as all hell. Kylo tries not to breathe as the threat of serious scorching slices him bare. He feels the heavy, black cloth held to him only by inertia, though gravity pulls at it and leaves one shoulder bare. 

Hux stands a little back from him, and works as if it’s the most important task ever. Undressed, laid open by his own lightsaber. Kylo sighs in bliss at the feeling of slightly-chill air on his skin.

When the robes and tunic are destroyed, Hux lets go of his hair. It turns out only to be so he can pull the Knight’s belt away enough for slicing, too, and then he’s a ragged mess of tattered fabric over black boots. His body flashes pale through the darkness, and he watches Hux’s face.

“Better,” his omega growls. “I’ll dress you, from now on. I’ll pick you the finest of clothes.”

“Thank you, Sir,” he breathes. 

“Step out of the rest, and get on the bed. On your hands and knees.”

He does so with gusto, realising he really _will_ remain naked, if Hux doesn’t find him something else to wear. The thought of being kept here for a few days – used and taken repeatedly – until he finds something suitable… he settles, and briefly pulls his balls and cock to hang properly, not to interfere with himself.

He’s Hux’s Knight, now. And that means everything.

There’s movement, and then Hux is behind him. Little finger-brushes down his spine, making him arch submissively, offering his body for whatever the other man wants. His knees spread a little more, and then there’s a _snick_ sound of the bottle opening.

“Once I’m done with you, I will make an announcement to the Order. They will all swear their allegiance to me. And I shall tell them that you – my mate – rule at my side.”

But only at his side. Kylo has no desire to rule for himself, none. He knows that, as the first finger penetrates him. It does so slowly, but with conviction. A nudging push that his body parts and sighs open to allow in, and he rocks lightly on his knees, trying to get more.

A tsk by his ear, and he stills, chastised. “Yes, my Leader,” he hisses.

“And you will care for our children. You will fight battles for me, and come home to the sound of small feet. Won’t you?”

Weirdly, yes. He thinks he’d like that. He’s built for war, trained for it. He’s a sharpened blade, but he’s also the other side, too. He’s the part of him that wants to cuddle up against his mate and whisper promises of love to his swollen belly. He’d like to care for their children, to give them as much love as he is able. A nod – _fierce –_ and he feels the finger joined by its brother. The two work in and out, as nails scratch fine lines over his spine. Open, he tries: pushing and bearing down, as soon Hux will do to birth their baby.

Kylo will never bear their children. Maybe he’d have been happier as an omega, because this feels incredibly satisfying. Birthing probably isn’t like this, but he likes to be bred all the same. In, swirl, spread, and the tug inside his rim is torture, making him yell.

Out come the fingers, and Kylo glances over his shoulder in confusion.

The fingers are out, but his hole isn’t abandoned. Out of nowhere, there’s a **thick** and unforgiving press of something not-organic. He keens as it squirms its way inside, a nice width that suddenly goes impossible. His face in the sheets, thighs trembling, letting Hux use his body completely. It’s not painful, but it’s minorly distressing to know it’s beyond what he can manage. The hand pushes inexorably in, moving the toy inside until – oh mercy – the bulb of it pops inside and locks into place.

Hux has plugged him. It’s not all that dissimilar to an Alpha’s knot, though considerably smaller for his less-relaxed ass. Kylo’s thighs are shaking from the way it makes him feel wide open and clammed shut at once. The thing isn’t _him_ , so he’s _spread_ , but it also is **there** , so he’s not. His head swims as he clenches around it, and then he feels Hux’s palm impact against the external base, using his heel to twirl it around with what slack there is.

There isn’t much, and Kylo’s cock screams at him in confusion. 

“You want to feel how I feel?” Hux asks, a thumb drawing little not-love-hearts under the waterfall of his hair. 

“ _Yes_ ,” he says, knowing he’s properly traded who owns him. He’s never been free, but it’s okay, now. It’s okay.

A weird, sticky, goopy feeling deeper in… and Kylo realises the toy is an Alpha mock-up. One used for training, or when there’s no Alpha in a relationship. Ones omegas use to take the edge off, or to pretend (or be?) okay without a real knot inside.

The fake seed is not as good as when Hux comes in him, but it definitely feels nice. Then – rudely – the swollen section starts to get wider. He can hear Hux pumping the toy up to full inflation, and it’s like his whole damn insides are shifting to get away. It presses against his prostate and he _yelps_.

“Please, please, Hux, please!”

“Please what?”

“I don’t know, just – just – **please**.”

“On your back. Hands above your head. Show me your belly, like the good little bitch you are. Show me how it’s swelling and empty, because you’re barren, despite how hard I fuck you.”

It’s difficult to do, with the toy still swollen to almost exploding inside of him, but he does so. Turns over so the toy is pushed into the mattress under him so he can grind his hips down. Kylo drops his hands and offers his throat, his stomach flinching under the insults. He _is_ a bad boy. He should be carrying their children, even though he’s delighted that Hux is. 

It’s. He doesn’t really _want_ to change. But he likes pretending like they could, maybe? Fucking at the edge of that line, playing with what could never be. He’s happy being an Alpha if he’s Hux’s Alpha.

Hands caress his stomach, pushing down low on his belly where he swears he can feel the toy shove back into Hux’s fingers. It makes the spread and friction harder, and Kylo whines and bounces on the fake knot. His own dick is flushed and ready, leaking a little with an urgent request to bury itself in his omega.  

“You… you don’t need to be an Alpha,” he says, suddenly feeling the words like an urgent pressure, as if holding them in would be to fight a violent sneeze of emotion. “You look beautiful with our child growing in you. You’re _perfect_ , Hux.”

That’s obviously a good thing to say, because Hux lurches up to sit astride his shoulders, gazing down at him. “I know I am.”

But everyone likes to hear it, don’t they? Kylo grins. “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful man I ever met. Strong, fierce, smart…”

“Mind you don’t cut yourself with that tongue,” Hux snorts. He pulls his thumb over it, tugging it from his lips. “You would do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

“ _Anything_ ,” Kylo agrees, his poor dick pushing into thin air. He can _smell_ Hux’s slick in the air, can feel it on his upper chest. Hux’s body is ready for him, as he’s ready to enter. “Anything.”

His face is held by one hand, and Hux’s cock paints over his lips. Kylo parts them, letting his tongue poke out to wet the head, and then there’s a _shunt_ inside and it’s all he can do not to choke. No warm up, no warning, just the length of him sliding over his tongue and butting into his throat. 

It makes his eyes water, and he grinds down even harder on the inflated toy in his hole, wanting the pressure against his prostate. He can’t use technique like this, so all he can do is try not to asphyxiate as he gulps messily, and then Hux starts to fuck his face in earnest.

Kylo offers him everything, loving the feeling of fullness on both ends. He’s spitroasted between them, his belly tight from the toy, his lips a slobbery mess. More fingers pet his hair, and there’s words of encouragement as Hux takes his pleasure.

“Hands on my belly,” his omega barks. “Now.”

He strokes over it, marvelling at the feel beneath the fabric. Hux is fully dressed, other than the unzipped fly and the dick that hurtles into Kylo’s mouth. _Beautiful. Gorgeous. Strong. In control_. He knows and thinks these things, pushing them into his mind on repeat. He means them so deeply, and as he feels his mate getting closer to the edge… 

It’s an imposition, but he grabs Hux’s ass and lets his fingers push between his cheeks as he shunts him all the way into his mouth. His body freaks out under the pressure, but he takes the intrusion as it makes his head swim, then… then Hux’s first climax hits, reedy and pulsing. Kylo isn’t entirely sure he can swallow it all, but he does his best. 

He’s still panting when he watches Hux shimmy his slacks down, and crawl backwards over him. A slick trail where they make contact, and then hands that guide his cock inside.

Kylo pulls Hux’s cheeks apart, as Hux lines his dick up for the coupling. Sharp, vicious little rubs, then he sinks down as Kylo howls in bliss. He always feels better inside of him, no matter how much he loves to be trampled down, first. He loves that first moment of gloved heat, the wet sound as skin moves over skin. The tightening bonds between them, and the way the ripples in his body edge his arousal to screaming.

He loves this. 

And then Hux starts to move, and Kylo is helpless under the wave of intent. His omega bounces furiously hard and fast, nearly coming off his cock with every ride over his shaft. The smell has his mouth watering, and he tries to find some way to tell him, to tell him how he loves him, but he’s too out of his mind with lust. 

“ _Help me_ ,” Hux demands.

Kylo sees the command inside his mind, and he nods. He grabs Hux’s hips, uses his strength and the Force to bounce him harder on his dick. To fuck him down onto his lap like he’s jerking himself off, and he’s almost forgotten the toy in him when Hux flicks some control and makes it spurt inside again.

Come down his throat, on his tongue and lips. Asshole pounded and stretched to oblivion. The perfection of his omega on his dick, teasing his knot to swell and making the bouncing harder. It’s everything, and Kylo can’t handle it. He can’t. It’s just…

“Knot me, damn you,” his omega snarls around his teeth. “Fucking breed me, you ridiculous—”

Just like that, the words make his dick swell exponentially. He tries lifting Hux up, to find he gets stuck on the tug. He’s locked onto his prick, much like Kylo’s locked onto the toy, and there’s a familiar, twitching need as he starts to spurt, but—

“ **Wait**.” 

Wait? His knot’s fucking there! Kylo’s nails dig crescents into the pale skin, and he yells in wordless protest at the cruel command. 

“Wait… wait…”

Not that Hux sounds all that cogent and coherent. He throws his head back, and grabs his cock in one hand, and the toy controls in the other. There’s a weird movement, and the fucker’s got a vibrator in the toy, hasn’t he? It flares into life, pulsing like a real knot, right as Hux spatters his load over Kylo’s chest.

Kylo is probably supposed to wait, but he fucking can’t. There are things you just _cannot_ expect someone to hold out through, and a pulsing, squirting dildo in his ass and a tight, convulsing hole around his knot and a blissed-out, orgasming omega spurting over his hand? Too much. He howls as his own climax hits, gushing into his mate and washing them both in utter, utter satisfaction.

Hux snickers, brokenly, and collapses onto his chest.

“ _That_ was perfect,” he preens. 

“It’s not over, yet,” Kylo points out.

“I know. But shut up and let me bask. If you want cuddles, now is when to get them.”

Which is a lie. Hux turns out to be very snuggly in the night-time. Fuck his brains out enough and he’s more than happy to curl up with you. Right now, he’s settling into place, plastered across his chest. The toy still pulses, but Hux turns down the intensity until it’s a tolerable agony, and then he demands kisses.

“The galaxy,” he whispers, between them. “It’s yours.”

“Ours,” Hux says. Vehemently.

He means it, and Kylo can’t handle how good that makes him feel. 


	9. Chapter 9

Hux’s version of nesting was barely adequate. It turned out – of _course_ – that Kylo was better at it, building a little fortress of pillows and comforters and (at Hux’s insistence) places for tablets and work items. Hux wouldn’t give up his duties until the contractions finally started, and even then it had been a struggle to get them put aside. Even if they _might_ distract him from the pains, Kylo didn’t want their firstborn to be a footnote to document review.

The droids hover in the next room, monitoring his vitals, only interfering when needed. Kylo nuzzles against Hux’s flank in the birthing bed, stroking over his swollen belly, at the kicking, wriggling thing, kissing at his neck. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praises.

“When _you_ push out an infant through _your_ rear, then you can talk,” Hux complains.

He hasn’t done it yet, but Kylo knows the shudders through his body as his hips adjust, as his birthing canal readies, and as the baby fights to stay in… these are starting to take their toll on his omega. 

“You know I’d pass out,” Kylo confirms.

“Yes. You would. Even a pain slut like you wo— _ugh_.”

Kylo dabs the cold towel over his head, and doesn’t scream at the deathgrip on his hand. Hux’s pain is loud, and he tries to siphon some of it off to make it easier on him.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Hux warns.

“I’m just trying to—”

“If I can’t handle this, I don’t deserve it.” His lips are thin, his brow furrowed, but he’s determined. 

Kylo understands needing to know you can do something, and he nods. “What do you need?”

“Tell me again how you’re going to get up to feed them in the night?” 

Hux is teasing, of course. Kylo is sure Hux will dote on their child as much, but not immediately after birth. Kylo would be all too happy to be woken all day and night, though. Hux has agreed that they can keep their children close, not send them away for training. And – _then_ – only if they want to, when older.

Kylo still remembers how he’d felt so abandoned, as a child. He’s determined to not let his own heirs feel the same about him. 

His mate turns his face into his shoulder, his breathing turning hurt, flecked with grunts of suffering. 

“Would you like me to sing to you?” Kylo asks.

It’s testament to how much he’s suffering that Hux nods.

Kylo isn’t good at singing, but he’s enthusiastic.

***

It’s much, much later when the pushing starts in earnest. Hux is screaming and calling Kylo every name under the sun, telling him he’ll never stick his prick in him again, that he’ll cut it off and stuff it up his own ass, see how _he_ likes it… and then begging him not to leave. 

He’s a wreck. He’s undone in ways Kylo has never seen. The threats don’t make him worried, not for his own sake. Instead, he feels for Hux, and he suffers the hand grabbing his, and begs without words to be allowed to halve his pain, to spread it between them.

Hux nods, sweaty and whining, and when the trickle of agony flows out to spread the load, words of gratitude pour out instead of the abuse.

More kisses, more fingers almost broken. A grunt and a howl as his body parts to let the child press through, and Kylo puts a hand under the baby’s head to help her into the world.

***

She’s beautiful. Tiny, with dark hair that might change to either colour. Confused little eyes and a scrunched up face. A gummy mouth and blobby fingers and a perfect combination of every feature. The normal number of them all, too. 

She has Hux’s nose, so far, which is good. Her ears are a little on the large side, but she’ll grow into them. The baby only cries briefly, calming once she’s placed on Kylo’s chest as she’s checked over. Hux looks worn out, but delighted. He’s barely conscious, and once the all clear is given, Kylo places her on his mate’s chest and slides in beside him.

The bed is a mess, and will need to be changed rapidly. Hux is a mess. Everything is a mess, and it’s all just beyond perfect.

Her little hands scrunch uselessly, and he sees the _awe_ on Hux’s face. His omega is a smitten as he is, and he _knows_ they’ll struggle not to spoil her.

“Have you decided on the name?” Kylo asks. They had a shortlist, but they both decided to see which one she was when they held her.

“I have. You said… Asha meant ‘Victory’?”

“It does,” Kylo agrees. In the old tongue.

“That’s what she’s called. She’s our Victory.” He sounds sleepy, and so does she. Kylo waits until Hux drifts off to sleep, and then he slides their baby over onto his chest, cupping under her little, swaddled butt and behind her head. 

Kylo kisses his omega’s peaceful brow, and gives him a few more minutes before he starts to clean up around him, taking care to keep the disturbance to a minimum.

He’s going to need to fuss both of them for some time. It’s the best kind of work he can think of. 

**Author's Note:**

> The main story is concluded, but I will still take prompts/one-shots in this universe!
> 
> (If you'd like to follow me on tumblr I am [@sithofren](http://www.sithofren.tumblr.com) and I love to take prompts. :D)
> 
> Look what the lovely [Omega_Hux](http://omega-hux.tumblr.com/post/151078572124/scene-from-the-fic-inverted-which-you-can-read) did!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


End file.
